Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1911-07-01
BLOSSOMS
LITTLE PAL !.
The Change Time Wrought In
the Two Companions.
BY ETHEL HARRINGTON.

the handspring of his life was snap
ped. lmbittered and sensitive. he
Stunned companionship. his small an
nuity sufflcing for cheap lodging and
meals at a neighboring restaurant 1t
WINS terrible beyond expression to be
blind, to be dragged back to life when
the fever had 30 denuded him. Exist
ence was barren. useless. hopeless, and
when he prayed 1t was for death.
One day, tripping as he climbed the
stairs. he felt the help Of baby hands.
"You counted wrong" reproved a
childish voice. II did t'uver night in
the dark"
whats your nameT' he demanded
shortly.
"Dora. Who's your"
"John Blossom"
"Pretty name. Bend down." Then.
whispering In his ear. ~ shall call you
Blossom" she scampered away, sing
ing back mischievously. Blossom
Blossom"
It was week before they met
again. The mans mood was desper-
ate. you Is frownin' awful, Bios
son." piped the shrill voice. but you
can't frighten me-"
"If you are not scared come and
talk to me bit"
"Muver don't low me In dodgers
rooms" Blossom felt the rebuff and,
reaching the top door, stumbled into
his room and slammed the door. Seat
ed on his cot, he clinched his hands in
the agony OF his helplessness
"Come," he cried sharply in answer
to timid rap. whereat some one en-
tered whom he could not recognize.
"What is ftp he half shouted. his
nerves strained TO the point Of frenzy.
"Just me, Blossom. Muver says you
is exceptions" Then in the silence the
child's eyes roved over the room and
lighted on the table Uttered with pa
pers. Does you writer" Her tone be-
tokened interest. Blossoms hands
moved aimiessly. write. writer
That's precisely what can't do, curse
itP' There before him lay the work
begun In pride and hope, now shatter-
ed by a darkness worse than death He
was recalled to the present by the
pressure of small arms resting on his
knees as the child looked up into his
despairing face. Z.
Poor dearp' she sympathized In an
old fashioned manner.
TITS dark, Dora-never any light
That's why cannot write" His voice
broke with half sob.
"I'm dreadful sorry. Let me do 1t
for you. print now, and learn fast
See If don't" She tossed the papers
aside and climbed into chair, sucking
loudly at the pencil to make It black
"What will we write, Blossom?" Re-
ceiving no answer, she looked up. Her
companions head was pillowed on his
arms. His shoulders heaved. Could q
man cry even as she sometimes did?
Dora scrambled to her feet and hur-
ried from the room, to return a few
minutes later flushed and breathless.
Heres Miss Arabellar she cried.
thrusting doll into the mans hands.
when ] get cryin' l just hold her
tight. She comforts lots, Muver's call
In. Hold Arabella close. Blossom"
The doll became the first link in a
strange friendship. which grew with
years. For the child's amusement
Blossom brought wonderful tales out
of the storehouse of his Imagination,
frequently In verse that he strung to-
gether during wakeful hours of the
night. Dora listened and remembered.
As she had said, she learned fast She
was barely twelve when she recalled
her promise. II write truly now. Tell
me what to write"
Blossom smiled sadly, declaring the
desire dead. but she insisted and coax
ed until he yielded. repeating some of
the phrasings that haunted him, and
the dormant passion revived. 1t was
new birth to the man, and the girl be-
came his eyes, as the gift that had
been smothered In darkness and uncer-
tainty suddenly developed, and the
poet came into his own. In time ''our
poetry" as Dora called It, verses with
exquisite rhythm, In round childish
chirography, found their way into ed
itors' hands and caused comment
So the years passed. and Blossom
counted each anniversary as 1t came.
Fifteen today" he said on one occa-
sion, signing heavily. 81 wish so
could see you once-just once"
Dora raised her head from copying.
1t was unusual for Blossom to chat
before the dictation was completed.
How do you lookT' continued the
blind man, directing his sightless gaze
toward her.
"Whose decision shall renderT'
Dora laughed deliciously. Mother says
big GIRL Aunt Helen 'gawky.' but
Tom insists pretty"
"Of course Tom is right. Well. here
is my remembrance" Plumbing in his
pocket, he brought out little case,
disclosing gold locket with dia-
mond set in it's heart shape.
"Oh. Blossom, how iovelyi But what
extravaganza You can't afford It,"
You mistake. have more money
than need. little pal"
The girl slipped the slender chain
nbout her neck and gave the clasp into
his hands; then as he clumsily fitted It
together she threw her arms about his
neck and kissed him. Els pulses
throbbed riotously at the warm touch
s. s. Ballard of Montpelier, secre-
tary of the Automobile Club of YER