The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-04-20

his mellow voice, MS pollSned senlalty.
She felt herself orphaned. desolate, utterly
forsaken.
Then out of the misty emptiness rose an
other face-a kind, earnest. sincere face
the face of Ambrose Power.
He is one of the truest men in all the
world, she said. And he would say 1
have done right"
X.
Yes. her father was right. She loved lux
ury and pl~easure-loved glitter and glad
ness; loved to go yachting with a troop of
friends; loved to see new scenes, wonderful
landscapes, magnificent cities. So much
the more could she feel for lives I'M
changeably sordid, bare and dull. So much
more did the sights and sounds and smells
OF slumdom offend her pampered senses.
But her heart was brave and generous and
paid no heed TO their protests.
From a schoolroom not far from the Old
Town sounded a very happy noise COM
posed of the merry tinkle of a piano, the
rhythmic stamp of some scores of little
feet, the bee-like hum of half-loud voices.
Softly the Rev. Ambrose Power opened
the door and looked in. Yes, the Old Town
had, alas, it's brutal men, its frowsy women
still; but here, at least, was a goodly por-
ton of it's children. their faces scrubbed
by half-scornful. yet not unwilling, moth
ers, till now they shone like glass, save
where the 'tide-mark'' parted clean face
from dirty throat. Some of them with
prouder parents wore gay ribbons in their
hair and gaudy beads about their necks.
But all of them wore fastened at their
heads bright paper flowers that deft and
dainty hands had fashioned. And all of
them were happy.
For these were living fowers-forget-me-
nots. ~violets, buttercups. daisies and prim-
roses. There were garden flowers, too
roses, lilies, pansies, pinks and gorgeous
sunfiowers. But wild flowers and garden
flowers were quite at peace together, and,
hand-in-hand, with quite wondrous grace,
they danced towards, each other, and
swinging round with now and then a
rhythmic click of heel and toss Of toe, blew
merry kisses each to, each at psuses in
their song.
Ambrose Power seated himself unmarked
on a bench beside the door.
1T goes extremely we'll" he commented,
pleased. What an angel she is"
The melodies, too. were hers. Like snow
white butterflies her twinkling fingers
chased each other across the keys. She
had all her fathers musical skill. with a
more original fancy. And this pantomime
of song and dance was called 1.-The Meet
ing of the Flowers"
But now one Of the queens of the guild
caught sight Of Ambrose. and, the music
happening to end just then, came raptur-
ously toward him.
How sweet of you to come and see us.
Have you been here long? Don't they
dance we'll? If only they were properly
washed"
81 don't think it matters, does it," said
Ambrose, smiling. THE aim so far is
just to make them happy for an hour and
teach them gentler games. And you have
admirably succeeded"
"Oh. here is Mr.. Power. How dear OF
him! Have you been here long,? Did you
see them dance? Don't they"
Mr.. Power! This is too charming OF
you. How do you do? Celia. here is Mr.
Power. Isn't it too sweet Of him?"
How do you do. Miss F1ashington? ~
said Ambrose, his head beginning to swim
And why do not the queens wear flow
ers?"
"Oh. Mr.. Power! Paper flowers? II
would be too absurd"
But where there is a will there is a way
The Rev. Ambrose Power had freed him
self in a most polite but eely fashion from
the bevy of gushing beauties, and was now
alone with Linda.
Are you p~leased?" she asked. Don't
you think they look happy?"
Indeed 1 do. And l marvel at their
skill
"Oh. they so to penny hops" Linda in
formed him. And those who don't learr
from those who do. They have told me
quite a lot OF their little secrets"
Il suppose they have. You have the gif
of sympathy. and children are quick L
find it out But let me offer you my warm
est congratulations, Miss Delling, on thu
fortune which / understand you have in
herited. That it will be nobly used.
know"
She looked into his ardent eyes with
little smile.
Thank you, Mr.. Power. You are good t.
me. But the fortune will be mine a few
days only. Let me tell you the truth.
have been helping my father TO be yer,
extravagant. and most Of my money will
be swallowed up by the appalling debts W,
have incurred. II is a shameful confession
but the truth. I I'M not a rich woman an,
longer. Mr.. Power. indeed. almost a poo
one. But you may congratulate me all tn
same. for 1 feel that God has been mos