Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1903-07-01
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EAA den, and one little maid among
~sS@ the flowers and bees and butter
siies. All alone she was, for mother did
not come out into the garden much
these days. Joan stopped before tall
pink hOllyhock, and spoke.
81 don't therink this is such a nice
summer as most" she said. Il used
to say fink" once-oh, years and
years ago, when l was ker-wite a
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
brows grave with thought. For SO Man
Daddy used to walk when he was
having 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
so hasty, he squeezed me SO hard that
he hurt, and his eyes were angry, and
hadn't been naughty at all. Are you
sorry, sweet lavender?"
She buried her face in the fragrance,
then trotted on down the little path,
till she came to a tall foxgloye. She
tilted back her yellow head and gazed
NO at the white and red bells with
wide eyed gravity, her hands still
clasped behind her back.
Zone day." she said, "a lady came to
see mother. 1t vast was long,
ar1 al hnrnn6
pretty ladies what bow, and she tried
to kiss me when she was going, but
didn't like her, you see, and | would
not kiss her, and I 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 grayely to the polite fox
gloves, and trotted on.
Before 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 quivered.
'sMan Daddy loved you the bestest
OF ALL Queen Of the Garden'-that's
what he called you, you know"
Then cry went up in the warm,
sweet air. II want Man Daddy-oh,
[ want him so bad"
The little hands were unclasped only
30 be locked together tighter still
"FOr I'm most grown up, you see,"
whispered Baby Joan to the tall white
lilly, land 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
gunshade ''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
the wind blow you drefful?"
Then she watched little blue butter
Gy as she fiuttered about from flower
TO 6ower, and finally sailed over the
wall
'Tf 1 was a butterfly" she said to
die cOnVOlVuluS, II would soon find
Man Daddy" She sighed, SO that her
small muslin-pinafored bosom gave a
big heave. But then" with another
thought, 'T'd have to leave mother"
She sighed again. Mother says,
sDOn't worry, jean when l ask when
Man Daddy's coming home and then
she kisses me ever so, to make up"
She trotted on again with hands be-
hind her back.
A woman looking from 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.
az can go most as fast as a butter
Sy," said Joan, "and III find Man
Daddy 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 Daddyll be there"
with a gleeful chuckle that brought
the dimples laughing TO her cheek.
S'M0ther never thought Of that, 1
D'lieye it was the lilies what put the
aherink In my inside"
Along the hot, dusty road, meeting no
one In this peaceful dinner hour, she
erotted, her sunbonnet dragging behind
and her yellow hair rlvaling the glow
ing cornfield on either side.
In her desire to emulate the butterfly
she got over the ground at a surprising
pace. She put all her heart and soul
into her endeavor, as she always did
into everything she undertook. Life
50 Joan was deep and an earnest
thing. She hardly knew that her
short legs We're aching, or that her
curls were sticking to her damp little