Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1903-05-28

were the glowing house plants which
were soon to be transferred to the gar
den. These, rising tier on tier, glow
ing geraniums, fragrant heliotrope,
brilliant hibiscus, golden mignonette,
were destined with their harder breth-
rem to yield tribute TO death
Aunt Jean-Auntie Jean!" rang a
fresh young voice. "Fm dressed
Nora dressed me! o, may help you
fix the flowers? And how soon may
we go on the hill?"
Jean laid her basket on a hall chair
Just in time to catch in her outfiung
arms the slim little white figure flying
down The stsaaisss;;.
You shall help me, my precious!"
she promised. And she touseled the
clustering curls on the dark little head
and pressed with her own the rosy lips
that were ripe for kisses. Breakfast
over, the two settled to work, for
Rosine had decided views of her own
as to the relative merits of set de-
signs in contradiction to the prefer
ence of Miss Charters for less formal
symbols And all the time the hazel
eyes sparkled and the restless little
tongue talked trippingly on.
You have to work awful hard. don't
you Auntie Jean? Did you get Billie's
mothers dress done? Did Billie come
for 1t? I'd like Billie-if he wasn't
freckled. Nora says you used to be
rich. She says you lived in that big
stone house with the fountain in the
yard. She says my mamma was rich,
too, until after my papa went away
and left her And then she came to
live in this little weeny house with
you. And then God wanted her. What
made you and my mamma get poor?
And why doesn't my papa come back?
And why wouldn't God let my mamma
stay here? And does she know when
we put all these pretty flowers on her
grave?"
So for the two in the bright little
room, plain to severity save for its
books and green things growing" and
air of indefinable refinement, the per
feet day wore on. II now and then
Jeans sweet face paled and her sensi-
tive lips quivered these the absorbed
little maiden did not notice at all
How should prattling child, busy
with a wreath, dream that her words
might wound?
They stood at the gate to see the
procession wind blythe hobbling vet
Grams, the women of the Relief Corps,
the townspeople in vehicles and afoot,
the uniformed band, the excited chill
dren running at either side. But the
sun had gone down in a splendor of
scarlet and gold, the streets were be-
ing fast deserted, and all the air was
still stepped in amber brilliance, when
Jean Charters and the little girl car
ried their treasures between them up
the green velvet sward Of that sloping
hill, sacred to silence and to sweet,
safe slumber.
The grave yard knew now no pres
ence save their own. On several
graves were flags-on the greater
number flowers. But some were bare
of bloom And from one to another
of these the late-comers moved, leay-
ing some sprays on each. Then they
sought a certain corner, where sim
pie stone recorded briefly young
wife's death.
You shall place them ALL" said
Jean Charters. She gave Rosine the
basket, and stood leaning against the
marble shaft, her black, trailing gown
outlining her slender form, her head
dropping as though in WEAKNESS.
With unconscious citation the child
went about her task. And afar in the
road Billie watched her. Billie, stiff
in his best Sunday suit. tortured by
new shoes, agonized by an unaccus-
toned collar. SO absorbed was he in
following every movement of his idol
he did not hear the step approaching.
He turned with hasty exclamation
at touch on his shoulder-turned to
confront a man whs was decidedly
stranger