Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1908-07-28
Her Birthday
ViOlets.
BY NELL SPEED.
Copyrighted, 1908. by Jessie Morgan.

/ seated DeSlue tue lduuIduy ld'oiitc,
Miss Imogene Goldberg. Mrs. De Ian
cey firmly believed that Miss Gold
bergs high blond pompadour and rhine
stone dog collar lent eclat to her estab-
| lishment
But. oddly enough. Jane Williams,
whose hair was parted demurely In the
middle and who wore her grandmoth-
er's old fashioned locket under her
plain pongee shirt waist. realized that
the fine gray eyes Of the new boarder
were looking her way frequently and
intently.
She tried to anaIyze her feelings with
the salad. and when the coffee-such
thick yet spirItless coffee-was served
she decided that 1t was embarrassment
and not q memory which stirred her
whenever the gray eyes glanced her
way.
Still at the conclusion Of the meal
she climbed three uncompromising
flights of poorly carpeted stairs to her
hall room and drew from her trunk her
small but treasured box Of photographs.
There they were; the father who had
| died the year Of her graduation. the
mother who had left her alone to fight
the world only twelve months before.
couple of aunts who had forgotten
her In the needs and pleasures of their
own children. several teachers and
three girls In her class at the high
school.
But there was no picture with mas
culine eyes that could possibly have re-
semblsd the gray ones which had
watched her gravely across the table
In the dingy dining room.
~ am getting moody" she said to
herself as she prepared for bed. II
must turn over new leaf Tomorrow
Is my birthday. | can't afford to turn
sour and old maidish at twenty-one.
When | go back to the Office on Mon
day morning I'll be more pleasant and
make friends with the other girls. I've
been living too much In dreams Of the
past"
Yet when she fell asleep 1t was the
dream again Of the past. 1t was her
birthday, the first party in celebration
Of that day which she could remember
with any sort Of distinctness.
She was dressed in pink tulle all
spattered with paper stars, and there
were pink candles on the birthday
cake. No one knew why an ordinarily
we'll behaved and unmischlevous child
should do such thing, but she sud
denly decided to steal into the dining
room and light the birthday cake be-
fore the party came in"
The match sputtered and jumped.
She tried to climb quickly from the
chair, but the tiny flame was quicker
still. In n fash the pretty pink tarla-
tan blazed up far above the candles.
and then she forgot everything in her
fright until she felt some one rolling
her over and over on the carpet and
battering her with his coat, and that
had been Willie, the cavalier Of her
wee girlhood.
She remembered how her mother
kissed Willie and cried over him. and
he had "poohpoohed" with very red
face and shutting feet Their adven-
ture was handed down as one Of the
traditions of the town, but when she
was twelve Willie went away to live
with his Grandfather Grey in the far
west
Later they had gone to Mexico, and
Jane had lost track Of them, although
never forgetting IN her own hard
struggle for q livelihood.
And Willie had big gray eyes. just
like those Of the new boarder. She
woke with start. Now she knew
why this man had attracted her atten-
ton OF course the world was full OF
men with gray eyes. There were not
colors enough to go around. Some
must be duplicated, and 1t was very
silly of her to think about Willie any
more. Doubtless he was married even
now to some dusky senorta whose ia
| ther owned valuable silver mines.
So she turned over and fell asleep
again, not to awaken until some one
tapped at her door and the maid, with
new respect In her bearing, entered.
carrying huge purple box.
"This here packages for you. Miss
Williams" she said, but holding 1t as
II loath to yield 1t to It's rightful own
err. "An' beln' as it's Sunday mornin'
an Miss De Lancey gone to church.
I'll bring you a cup Of coffee an some
toast up here"
For all the world loves lover. And
are not violets and lovers synony-
nous?
Jane sat up in bed and reached for
the box.
"Neyer mind about the coffee. I've
oversight. but I'll be down in few
minutes"
She was undoing the box with trem-
bling fingers. and the maid, all unno-
ticed, fingered curiously. Out came a
great bunch Of California violets done
up in the most approved fashion-pur'
pie foil. cord, tassel and all.
"For me-? Impossible! And there Is
no card"
She turned to the lid Of the box.
Gabrielle"
| The florist around the corner!
Oh, Il had been cruel mistake. No
one in the great city knew II was her
birthday. and none would care II they
knew.
Now. Jane Williams" she said as
iternly as was possible with mouth
half full OF hairpins. right after break
fast you'll take that box back. II be-
longs to some other Miss Williams"
And 1t went back. the excited girl
rushing right past the new boarder In
her haste-and. yes. In her tiny heart
an ache that the flowers were not
meant for her.
Gabrielle spoke most impossible
dialect, and he did his little worst TO
make Jane understand that there had
been no mistake. But Jane firmly re-
fused to carry the flowers back with
her, and. Just to convince herself that
she was satisfied with what she had
done. she walked half an hour In the
park, returning to find the box stand
| ing on her shabby bureau. Again she
opened It, and this time an engraved
card met her gaze. 'Mr. Frederick
W. Grey" and beneath was the pen
eilsd legend: Birthday wishes. and
may I see you soon? am waiting In
the parlor now II you care to come
down."
Frederick w. Grey"