The Montgomery tribune. (Montgomery City, Mo.) 1892-1910, 1909-01-08
A BUNCH OF !
SWEET PEAS
BY NELLIE PETIT
Copyright, by Ford Pub. Coz

Oh JHS Olner size OF IHe lnlCk pTlNSt
hedge could almost fancy there were
tears in her eyes.
For the voice belonged to a
of that fact Miles Cathcart was sure.
And, moreover, the owner thereof
must be a young woman; not that the
point interested him much. He was
above and beyond and outside the pale
of womanfolk.
At least, so he had told himself
times without number during the past
ten years.
And he was 81 now; getting quite
an old man-quite a confirmed her.
init.
He looked round his beautiful gar
den, where the bees ran riot in the
ho~neysuckle, and the butterflies made
free with the roses and tall virgin
lilies. Quite a hermit.
He was standing between two rows
of magnificent sweet peas From a
glorious deep purple TO the faintest
shade of pink they crept up, each in
their allotted space, between the shell
tering, helpful sticks.
The voice arrested his wandering
attention once more.
Are you sure you haven't any
sweet peas? | am sure | smell them
somewhere. And I did so want a
bunch for aunty on her birthday; they
are her favorite flowers!"
There was no doubt about the cha
grin; the tones of the voice dropped
almost to a sob. Miles pictured a
peevish face to himself.
"Shure, now, but l amt a got none
such thing! Them as you smells be-
longs mex door to Mr.. Cathcart-they
does; and he wouldn't spare ZEN for
love or money! the old job gardener
who rented the gardens next to Cath
carts explained.
Love or money! What had he to
do with the former?" Miles asked him
self bitterly. OF the latter he had
enough and to spare, as his beloved
flowers testified. Years ago-ten or
twelve at least-he had thought that
love and he had something in COM
mon; he had dreamed wild dreams,
and seen glorious visions; but neither
the dreams nor the visions became re-
alties. She" went away with some
n else, and he was left behind with
put a word, without a look, left to
grow into a bitter, disappointed man.
. hermit, who avoided all his fellow
creatures, and gave the hulk of what
remained of himself to his garden in
the sunny southern fishing village to
which he had drifted.
"Wouldn't-don't you think you
could go in and ask Mr.. Cathcart to
spare you just a few? The fragrance
Is so-strong, he must have hundreds,
and he can't want to keep them all
20 himself" the speaker went on i'm
Ploringly.
The gardener shook his head.
"Sakes alive, missy, I'd not be the
one to ask him!" he answered hurried.
Ey. You can do it an you please, II
you wants sweet peas so much; but ]
can't see why them roses amt good
enough for any one. Tis all the same
wi visitors; they always wants what
as haven't got-and that's straight"
Cathcart smiled to himself on the
other side of the hedge. He hadn't
smiled for some months! So the own.
or of the voice was a visitor, was she?
And she wanted what old Stephen
Walker hadn't got, but what he-Miles
Nathcart-had!
He held his breath as he waited for
Che answer.
Il think I'll go and ask him, then"
she said in clear, cool tones. HE can't
eat me, l suppose, and a cat may look
at a king, mayn't it? You've heard of
that old rhyme in D~evonshire, haven't
you?"
He could almost hear a chuckle from
that old fiend of a Stephen.
go to, missy, with our gaming Of
mel" he answered peevishly. IF you
gifts them sweet peas from Mr.. Cath.
scart-well, I'll think differently O. the
Rest of your sex for ever and ever aft,
-srwards!"
Miles heard a soft football on the
path next door. The young lady was
carrying her threat into execution. BY
rights he ought to go indoors and not
Ne seen, but he chose to remain where
he was, standing between his tai rows
of magnificent sweet peas, and await
ing the coming Of
A tall. slender girl in white, with
q big, shad,' hat almost hiding her
Gower-like face! Miles heard the soft
4rou-frou Of her skirts; his ears had
not heard the sound for G
When he raised his dark, grave eyes
she was In front OF him. He had been
90 hidden by his coveted flowers that
she only caught sight of him then. A
qittle sound-it might have beer of
fright, or surprise. or relief-broke
from her lips.
"Please," she said ever 30 gently,
swould you let me have a few Of your
sweet peas for aunty's birthday ?.They
are lovely, aren't hey?"--burying her
small nose in the blossoms. But
Walker hasn't any. and aunty is 80
fond Of them."