Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1902-07-09
am signing for the luxuries of life.'


| dear?" she asked.
Now really, Mrs. Dale!" Eleanor
protested brightly; then, with more
color in her face, she added, Just now
they are the eight concerts that the
Beethoven Society is going to give"
Mrs. Dale smiled in sympathy,
"They are certainly the greatest of
luxuries to music lovers" she agreed.
"And to music teachers who must
spend their money for-other things"
Eleanor added, with laugh. please
don't think l am really unhappy be-
cause l can't afford to go, Mrs. Dale.
I'm not; I'm just croaking a little.
It's such help to any one to hear
good music,-especially to a music
teacher,-and such joy! But I'm
not unhappy about it; I'm glad l can
do other things. l don't feel bit like
croaking any more since I've seen
you!"
you dear child" exclaimed Mrs.
Dale, warmly. She knew that most of
the other things that Eleanor did were
done for other persons, and done will
ingly and bravely. "You dear child!"
she repeated.
Eleanor pressed her hand closely.
I must fly to my next pupil, Mrs. Dale.
May l come to see you tomorrow
perhaps late in the afternoon?" she
whispered.
The quick tears came into Amy's
r,optha,sc 81 s.h
"Good-by, my dear!"
Eleanor sped up the street to her
next pupil, and Mrs. Dale turned to
enter the florists shop and buy the
white roses.
Eleanor is a dear, good child" she
thought, so brave and unselfish! 1t
is pity she can't go to those concerts.
They would give her such help, AMI
such happiness. tool l wish l could
give her ticket to them. Amy would
be so pleased; she loved Eleanor. If
tomorrow were not Amys birthday,
and l were not going to get the flowers
for her grave. l should be able to do
that for Eleanor. She would let me
because l am Amy's mother. l won
der"
new possibility came into her mind.
She turned away from the florists
shop. In less than an hour she was
going home, past the yellowing fields
and sun-lighted trees. She had no
flowers with her. but the look in her
1,,r,
Amy
In the last few moments of daylight
she wrote little note to Eleanor. The
girl wept tears, half-happy, half-saJ.
as she read:
MY DEAR CHILD: Tomorrow, as
you know. is Amy's birthday. If Amy
were here | should give her something
to celebrate it. Amy is not here, but
Amy, and her friend. Will you not
take the gift for her, and go and listen
to the glorious music that you so love
and can so well make helpful to your
self and others? Come to see me
soon, and believe me, Your warm
friend,
AMY SPENCER DALE.
Slipped into the note Eleanor found
a ticket to the Beethoven society con-
certs. Amy's mother had sent it very
happily, but after it had gone she set
alone in the gathering twilight, wish
ing that she had just one flower to
take on the next day to Amy's grave.
Amy would have liked me to do
that" she thought, "but still-on her
first birthady-"
She did not finish the sentence, for
| just at that moment little Marjorie
Williams, who lived next door, came
running in.
80 Mrs. Dale" she cried "Ive been
to the woods with father, and I've
brought you some flowers!" She ran
up to Mrs. Dale, and dropped into her
arms great mass of golden rod and
blue autum dasies. Then she kissed
her and danced away home.
Mrs. Dale gathered the golden rod
and dasies in her arms, and pressed
her cheek softly against them. The
next morning she took them and laid
them on Amy's grave. Strangely her
heart felt lighter than it had felt since
Amy died
She did not know why, but when
Eleanor came later in the day, and
kissed her again and again, AMI
thanked her with wet eyes for the
gift, she began to know. Never after
did she cover Amy's grave with costly
Quick-fadng flowers.
Instead, at Christmas, and at Easter
and on Amy's birthday, she did some
lovely Kindness for some other girl for
Amys sake. Sometimes it was small,
sometimes it was large; but always it
was something that made the girl
happier and better, and consequently
more valuable to the worldly outh 8
Companion.
A Real Philosopher.
A Battersea workingman was once