Valentine Democrat. (Valentine, Neb.) 1900-1930, 1903-07-23

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MIL e11 va 49,
the flowers and bees and butter
lies. All alone she was. for mother did
not come out into the garden much
these days. Joan stopped before a tall
pink hollyhock, and spoke.
IL don't therink this is such a nice
summer as most" she said. 81 used
to say fink" once-oh, years and
years ago, when l was ker-wite q
little baby, but say 'therink,' now,
cause I'm most grown up, you see"
Then she walked on again down the
little twisted gravel path. with her
hands clasped behind her, and her
,rows grave with thought. For so Man
Daddy used to walk when he was
having a big "therink."
But it's whole days-'most years
since Man Daddy went away" she
said, stopping beside a gray green
bush of lavender, land he said goodby
70 hasty, he squeezed me so hard that
lie hurt, and his eyes were angry, and
hadn't been naughty at all. Are you
sorry, sweet lavender?"
Cht Jul Z LoNC III III AMY
then trotted on down the little path,
Till she came to a tall foxglove. She
tilted back her yellow head and gaZed
up at the white and red bells with
wide eyed gravity, her hands still
clasped behind her back.
lone day." she said, "a lady came to
see mother. 1t vast was a long.
big time ago, afOre you were horned,
pretty ladies what bow, and she tried
to kiss me when she was going, but
I didn't like her, you see, and l would
not kiss her, and | ran in to mother,
and mother was i'll on the-I forgot
the bed without covers in the draw
Jing-room, you know, and the lady
was smiling ever so, and her dress
was as long as a new little baby's.
and that was the day Man Daddy went
away"
She bowed gravely to the polite fox
gloves, and trotted on.
Before a group of tall, white lilies she
stopped again. She came closer, and,
stretching up her arms, pulled one
gently down and laid her soft cheek
against the snowy petals.
For a moment the baby lip qufvered.
Man Daddy loved you the bestest
Of all. Queen of the Garden-that's
what he called you, you know"
Then a cry went up in the warm.
sweet air. Il want Man Daddy-oh.
l want him so bad"
The little hands were uncIasped only
to be locked together tighter still.
For I'm most grown up, you see,"
whispered Baby Joan to the tall white
lily, and grown-ups don't cry, you
know
She left the lilies, and walked on in
deep thought. At the end of the path
her wee red sunshade was tied with
a string to a nail in the wall. Such
a long while it had taken to fix that
sunshade ''propelly," but Joan eyed it
proudly now.
Are you ker-wite happy?" she said.
peeping round at the clambering white
and pink convolvulus behind the lit
tie parasol. Poor muslin ladies, didn't
AhC IN OlO" yOu uTc1UL! |
Then she watched q little blue butter
fly as she 1uttered about from flower
TO flower, and finally sailed over the
wall.
IF l was a butterfly" she said to
the convOlvulus. Il would soon find
Daddy" She sighed, so that her
small muslin-pinafored bosom gave Il
big heave. But them with another
thought, I'D have to leave mother"
She sighed again. Mother says.
Don't worry, JOAN when 1 ask when
Man Daddy's coming home, and then
she kisses me V so, TO make up"
She trotted on again with hands be-
hind her back.
A woman looking from a window
turned away in anguish from the small
feminine imitation of Man Daddy.
Suddenly the chubby legs twinkled in
wild haste up the garden, across the
velvet lawn, out of the open gate into
the road.
Il can go most as fast as a butter
fly" said Joan, land I'll find Man
at the nice place where Fido
was took when he was lost, where
there were such a heaps and heaps of
dogs. l know Man Daddy'll be there"
with a gleeful chuckle that brought
dimples laughing to her cheek.
Mother never thought of that, I
it was the lilies what put the
in my inside"
Along the hot, dusty road, meeting no
one in this peaceful dinner hour, she
her sunbonnet dragging behind
and her yellow hair rivaling the glow
ing cOrnfield ON either side.
In her desire to emulate the butterfly
she got over the ground at a surprising
She put all her heart and soul
into her endeavor, as she always did
into everything she undertook. Life
to Joan was a deep and an earnest
thing. She hardly knew that her
short legs were aching, or that her
were sticking to her damp little
brow. By the time the village dinner
hour was owe the village was left far
behind by jeans determined legs. She
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