The Sisseton weekly standard. (Sisseton, Roberts County, S.D.) 1892-1929, 1907-02-08

lcbed fe%arfully, but his pocket was full
If pennies, ~interspersed with an occa-
ional half dime.
The clouds were breaking in the west.
ind a CLEAN of sunshine gilded the tall
ower of ST. Johns. Arch shouldered
lis broom, and whistled a merry tune
Is he took his way homeward. His
bright dark eyes sparkled as he thought
now the sight OF his earnings would
:heer his feeble mother. She could
lave tea now, with real milk and soma
sugar in it, and an range TOO. Oaly
yesterday she was wishing she had an
range.
Arch's way led past a horticulturis, $
tore, and his eyes wandered longiaElE
over the display of flowers in the win
low. He must have just Il wee whi-s
'ose, because. only the sabbath beIor,.
While he sat at his mothers feet. she
lad wept in telling him about the sweac
'oses that used to grow under the Win
low Of the little country cottage where
Ter happy youth had been spent.
The white rose would be like bring
ng back TO her ever so little a bit OF
he happy past. 1t could not cost much,
and Arch felt wealthy as q prince. He
stepped into the store and asked the
price of a white rose. The clerk an
swered him roughly:
Get Out of the store, you young ras-
al. You want TO steal something"
Il am not a thief. sir" said the boy,
proudly. his sallow cheeks crimsoning
aotly. Il want a rose for my mother.
{ CUES I can pay for it,
Its half a dollar, ii you want it"
said the man sneeringly. SHOW your
money, or take yourself of this min
,te""
Arch's countenance fell. He had not
half a dollar in all. He turned sadly
away. his head dropping. mis- lip quiv-
sring. Oh. how very hard il was to
oe poor. he thought, looking enviously
At the costly carriage with a pair of
splendid grays, standing before the
ioor.
Stop. little boy" said a sweet voice
rom somewhere among the roses and
leliotropes. rs your mother sick?'
Arch removed his cap-some Unborn
spirit of courtesy prompting him to be
-everent toward the glorious vision
which burst upon him. For a moment
ae thought he saw an angel. and al
most expected that she would unfold
ler silyery wings, and vanish in a gold
IN cloud from his sight. But after the
irst glance he saw that she was a little
girl about his own age-eight or nine
years old, perhaps-with yellow curls,
ieep hazel eyes, a mouth like a rosebud,
md a blue silk frock. She repeated the
question:
rs your mother sick, little boy?"
NO, she is not sick, for she always
sits up, and sews. But she is not
strong, and her cheeks never nave any
color in them, like yours"
And does she love flowers?"
Eyes, she loves them dearly. She
Kisses them always, when she has any,.
And that's not often"
docs she? That's nice. Just like l
do" said the little girl in a pleased
voice. MIR. Burns"-to the gruff
clerk-"here is a dollar. Give me some
real nice roses. and two or three sweet
pinks. The lady shall have some tlow-
ers. Tell her sent them"
who shall l say SEM them?"
"Margie Harrison. Will she know
think?"
II guess not. But it's all the same
[ shall tell her you are n of the angels,
any way. She knows about them, for
she's told me ever SO much about them.
The little girl laughed, and gave him
the flowers.
Don't soil them with your grimy
when you get home-let's see, what's
your name?"
archer T%revlyn."
"Why, what a nice name! Just like
names in a story book. l know some
elegant people by the name of Trevlyn.
But they live in a big house and have
lowers enough of their own. So they
can't be your folks. can they?"
mo, they're not my folks" replied
the Soy, with a touch of bitterness in his
voice.
We'll, Archer, when you get home,
you wash your face. do! It's so dirty"
The boy flushed holly. If one of his
companions had said that to him, he
would have knocked him down instant
ly. But he forgave everything this lit
tie girl said, because she was so beau
tiful and kind.
II am a street sweeper, miss"
ooh, that accounts for it, then. It's
very muddy today, and you must be
tired. Hark! there's Florine calling me.
Good-by, Archer"
She vanished, and a moment later
the boy say her disappear within the
glittering carriage, which, loaded down
with fragrant blossoms, was driven
slowly away. He stood a little while
looking after it, then. pulling his cap
down over his eyes, and grasping the
stems Of her flowers tightly in his
little purple hand. he started home.
Homei It could hardly be called so,
and yet It was home to Archer. His
: mother was thers-the dear mother