Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1919-06-11
DAILY NOVELETTE,
TULIPS FOR JIMMY
BY CELIA K. SHUTE
E,MELINE RANNEY stood under tn

about her. She was a tired looking
woman, with something plaintive and
youthful in her appearance in spite of
evidences of poverty and hard work. Her
face, her dress, the rusty shade in her
hand, the pitcher with broken nose,
all told a sad story. She had just
| filled two bacon jars with water at the
cemetery pump and she stool on the
grassy edge of the uncared for Ranney
lot specializing as to just where to place
them. She had been trying to get her
husband, Amos Ranney, to cut the
grass for more than week, and he
had agreed to do it. as he always did.
and, as always. had failed to keep his
promise. So she had come, with her
rusty spade and her scissors and her
broken pitcher. and some lilac blossoms
from tree in n deserted yard next
door, to see what she could do herself.
The Fletchers had been good fam
lily, in comfortable circumstances. Eme.
line had stopped when she had married
Amos Ranney. Her parents had been
unrelenting, and she passionately de
fiant, and from the day of her mar
riage until now there had been no
communication between them, even
though they had lived in the same town.
Her weary. haggard eyes, sweeping
the Inscriptions on the row Of stones
in the Fletcher lot. across the walk.
came back to the little stone in the
Ranney lot. 1t bore a short inscrip-
tion, just Jimmy, aged g." Her set
face quivered as she smoothed the lit
tie hcadstone tenderly. Jimmy had
been her only little child. y
Around her everywhere were flowers.
beautiful blossoms, profusely lavishcd.
She looked at her lilacs with sudden
distaste. She wanted something diff
fercnt for Jimmy. Then she fell on hcr
knees and fell to cutting and pulling
and spading. The long. wiry rooted
grasses were hard to manage. but she
was used to hard work. The little
mound began to take on smoothness.
and when she had picked up the grass
and twigs she felt repaid for her labor.
The Fletcher money had gone to a for
elgn organization. Not a penny or IT
had gone to her, the natural heir. Eme-
line had longed for it for Jimmy while
he lived. Now she wished she had just
few dollars of it for his grave.
Automobiles chugged past her as she
knelt there. Occasionally she glanced
up and caught the rainbow flare of
mowers, baskets and bouquets of them,
on the seats and in the laps OF the oc-
cupants. Once she shrank back as q
car passed, with a muttered, "Olivc
Granger! And all those flowers for
derty = She stood up after the car had
gone by and looked after it. "Oive
Granger wasn't as well off as | was
once she thought bitterly. "And now
iook at her. with her automobile and
her lovely house and her oceans of
money And look at me, with my tum-
Die down house and my horny hands
and rags A low grOan broke from
her, though she tossed her head up
proudly the next instant. well. ]
brought it all on myself she admitted
honestly. I'll take my punishment
without finching."
by and by she stepped out into the
path backward to judge of the effect
of the lilacs she had been arranging,
and her foot came against something
soft that crushed. She turned. and her
breath actually stopped. Tulips! A
mound of them-pink and white and
red and yellow. flaming like jewels in
the morning sun. She bent over them
i'll sudden rapture. Such wonderful
colors! Such marvellous textures. Oh.
how beautiful they would look on
Jimmy's grave! She did not give
thought to how they had come here. 1t
seemed as IL Providence had provided
them for Jimmy and her.
Emeline all her life had acted on i'm
pulse. taken each false step without re-
Election, to realize and repent later on
She snatched the tulips up with quivcr
ing fingers, separated them and crowded
them into the bacon jars. Then she put
the jars upon the grave-one at the
head. one at the foot They changed
the Ranney lot from a dreary plot of
ground to a place of marvellous beauty.
She gloated over them, thinking of
Jimmy's joy in their coloring and the
velvety touch of the petals. He had
been unchildishly appreciative of
flowers.
a shrill child's voice broke into her
thoughts. "There they are, mother.
There they are! She's got 'em-that
woman kneeling down.
Hush, Alice, hush - woman's
low. rebuking voice broke in.
Emeline Ranney knelt there. She
literally could not move. She scarcely
breathed. Like tide it rushed over
her that they were speaking of her,
that she had their tulips.
She turned swiftly, snatched the
tulips from the jars, gathered them into
one glorious bunch OF vivid color. and
laid them on the vacant seat beside
the chauffeur. ''There," said she, 81
never so much as stole a pin before in
all my life. It's a strange place to
begin. stealing flowers for a childs
grave :" Her voice failed her for an
instant, but she conquered the weak
ness. ''There are your flowers, little
girl, and not one of them hurt. The
! hurts done elsewhere.
Don't, please" begged the woman
in the car. You're welcome to the
flowers, Emeline Ranney. We went to
school together long enough for me to
know that you'd never do dishonest
thing"
''You have the evidence of your
Senses" broke in Emeline with her ter