Martinsburg herald. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1881-1920, 1900-06-02
THE sickle And SHEAF
AMEMoR1AL DAY STORY BY PETER M'ARTHUR.
Copyright. 800. By 2. MeArthur.

V ~ the only MY. florist 6,,sa in infant naml
the floral pieces for the
graves Of the nations heroes. Mr.
Floyd's son was preparing the empty
| frames by wrapping the backs Of them
With tin fol and then filling them with
wet moss. Other assistants were clip.
/ ping the immortelles and skillfully
substituting slender wire stems.
"IIellor' exclaimed the son. Here
| is Miss Beaumas' sickle and sheaf.
| Has she left her order yetT'
/ Mr. Floyd drew the back of his hand
| over his sweaty forehead. "No, she
! hasn't left her order yet but you can
| fix up the frame. She has left her or
der every year since Memorial day was
first kept, and she amt going to stop
now"
| Mr.. Floyd's beard has grown gray
/ since he first began to help people to
express their grief in flowers. In CON
sequence he knows the history of many
a sorrow. If you catch him In the right
mood, he will tell you, with a smile
somewhere under his shaggy beard
/ anu SuON uiS OillS at ilic Vi uio
eye, just how long mourning usually
lasts. From his account books he can
tell you just how long this or that
widower's heart was sore after the
death of his first wife and trace his
| second courtship in the diminishing or
/ ders to the grave and increased orders
for corsage bouquets. The grief of ths
] Wild ic oil ch n nf
dren who soon find there is hardly
enough of their inheritance left to jus.
| tify them in buying flowers for the
| graves of their parents. So, being
something of a philosopher, he knows
the Sincere mourners among his pa
irons and respects them accordingly.
| In factf- any one else wishing for a
sheaf and sickle like Miss Beaumas
for Memorial Gay would have been
obliged to seek it elsewhere. There
was no doubt in Mr.. Floyd's mind
about the quality of her grief, for he
had known her and Jack Barclay when
they were schoolmates, and, having
given the order to have the piece made
he resumed his work.
Miss Beaumas certainly had some
thing on her mind. Although she had
on her prim little bonnet and her black
shawl was folded neatly about her
pinched shoulders, she sat and tapped
with her fingers on the table. A little
bag that evidently had money in it lay
/ before her.
| Ills mother didn't send any flowers
] last year" she thought to herself IL
wonder if she will this year" Miss
Beaumas knew that the reason Mrs,
Barclay had not sent flowers was be-
cause she was i'll and too poor to buy
them. All she had to live on was the
pension she received from the govern
ment, for her husband also had been
soldier, and it all had to go to pay her
keep with the poor people who had
agreed to board and clothe her and
provide her with medicines for the
pension. To a woman of her pride
this was better than going to home"
but no one can know what she felt in
being forced to let Memorial day pass
| without n token for her dead. Miss
ened, for Mrs. Barclay had made her
grief heavier to bear She had not hes
itated to wound the feelings of the
young girl whose mourning was as
open as her own when the dead soldier
had been brought home. She had said
that Miss Beaumas had entrapped him
and that if he had lived to marry her
he would have married beneath him.
Such things are hard to forgive, and
they can never be forgotten. But Miss
Beaumas was now old and lonely her
self Her needlework enabled her to
have the barest necessities, and by
much saving in trifes she accumulated
the necessary so every year to pay for
the sickle and sheaf she always brought
to her hero's grave. But she couldn't
make up her mind to go and give the
order as usual, for verse of Scripture
from which her minister had preached
a stirring sermon could not be driven
from her mind:
Therefore. II thou bring thy gift to the altar
! and there remembered that thy brother hath
aught against thee leave there thy gift before
| the altar and go thy way. First be reconciled to
| thy brother and then come and offer thy gift.
The flowers were certainly an Offer
ing, and his grave was an altar. At
last she rose as if in obedience to
command rather than as one who has
made a resolution. She replaced the
! little bag in the drawer of the old fash
toned press, then walked to where Mrs.
Barclay was living. The heavy odor
OF cooking vegetables and the queru-
lous crying of children seemed to surge
past the untidy woman who opened the
door. When Miss Beaumas had ex-
planned her errand, she was ushered
without ceremony into the room Of
Mrs. Barclay. The invalid was half
propped up in bed, and her hands lay
on the dingy Counterpart listlessly
apart and more expressive of hopeless
grief than even her sad face. She
started with surprise when the woman
told her who the visitor was that her
dim eyes could not see, for they had
q ~