The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1904-11-13
Cool Ike

WncU my niue maid SAINTS nr DToNS above Intll
in earnest concentration. they are all your eyes.
She came to ask about the show : what she
called it. left her mother to tell her about the beau
tiful. beautiful lady. and the music. My mind had
gone back to you-and cloth roses
The woman murmured a protest at the j~uxtaposi-
ton. Tell me about the baby that has my eyes"
she urged.
The baby answered Harte. has radiated love
and charm. always. as the sun sends out light. You
are a harmonious creature. Mary; but this child of
mine is harmony itself. You played upon hearts with
your skilful hands for a time last night; her little.
laundering fingers never lose their grip on the soul of
life. the secret of love itself. She is as rounded, as
balanced. as satisfying as a drop of water. the blue
sky. or a rose.
As satisfying as a real rose. you mean, of course"
again with a trace of bitterness in the full tones.
You infer that cloth roses are not satisfying"
Harte looked at his companion quizzicaly. yet
tenderly. Did l seem to infer that: Well. there Is
much to be said about cloth roses. In the first place.
you can make them of any size you choose, and
any color. too, if you do not care overmuch for
nature. Seasons are nothing to the cloth rose
you may lay it away in a box. and take it out
after years. with the same bloom on its petals, the
same curve"
is anybody pleased with his roses?" the woman
interrupted. Mine, | know. weary me with Just
that reliability you mention 1t degenerates into
sameness."
rs anybody pleased with his roses?" Harte re-
peated gently. Why, yes. l am. You may be. 1
am not saving. l am not attempting to prove. that
you made a mistake when you chose cloth roses. My
roses are not horticultural wonders-our roses. |
should say. those that bloom for me and the wife and
babies. Yet they are roses. born to the heritage of
that which the cloth rose can only copy. They take
Gods wind upon their honest faces; the salt of tears
is sometimes theirs for dew. We may not lay them
away in boxes. and find them fresh again after a year:
but we always have trusted that they would bloom
and renew themselves.
Two blue eyes. heavy with unshed tears. were
raised to Harte's. With a faint shrug their owner
murmured: What matter, so the world calls it a
rosea We must be brave and smile over Our choice.
mustn't We"
"Oh. Mary. Mary girl And cleave to it; mol
Again, as l lifted my little girl on my knee-my
little girl with your eyes-I saw YOU stand. fronting
the lights and the music. dominating all Tor a moment.
leading all hearts captive for an instant, and cherish
ing in your hands a cloth rose"
He raised one of the gloved hands. II couldn't
help thinking, when | looked at these dear fingers. that
God formed to hold His own flowers of love. that it
was a pity to see the muslin cheat in them That's
what made me presume to pity you; but | hope | am
mistaken"
They were getting into town now; the car was
filling up. The woman sat erect, and put her costume
to rights with an infnitesimal touch or two.
Its a question of choice. you know" Harte added
wiStfully. Maybe you like that artificial life. One
soul cannot choose for another. Perhaps you feel
no lack"
You mean that maybe l am satisfied with cloth
roses" She was rising now: the car was slowing for
the crossing at her hotel. You should talk to my
manager. He says that | never am satisfied with
anything He Swcars that whatever | choose. | am
sure later to think | wanted the other thing. Perhaps
he is right. l am persuaded that there will be 4
special niche, high in glory. in the next world, for
the souls of managers. Good-by.'
He sprang out ahead of her. assisted her down.
bade good-bv. and stood uncovered as she moved
uncertainty forward. Then, turning to rerntcr the
car, he stopped and picked up something that her
trailing skirts had swept to his feet in passing; a
tinted. silkcn trihe this. fashioned by slender Partisan
hngers-the thing he had. in his clumsy masculine
fashion, called a cloth rose
He looked after her smiling 4 little sadly As he
made his way back to his seat his hand travelled, by
.---- ~. ---.--L.,.L L-L:. hnIE---r - III l-t. Lrc,st