Evening star., 1925-03-22
AROUND THE CITY
BY Mamie Lancaster

which had shut out the patter OF rain
In Summer time and the gentle rustic
leaves-and yet II is all right, some
how, or 1t wouldn't be.
= x
CHE Is old and poor and lonely
a three-ply tragedy of life.
scarcely worth recording, seeing that
there are so many and many who are
lonely and old and poor-but anyhow:
She has just got the better of a
spell of illness, and is working over
hard to pay the cost of 1t. And 1t is
because of her few chances that she
becomes patheticaily garrulous when
she finds some one sympathetic
enough to listen in:
"Yes'm, I've been mighty sick. and
now I'm up, 1 haster work so awful
hard, can scurcely stan on my feet
over and over again. until the sym
pathetic listener wedged In a word
of advice:
That's too bad! Wouldn't 1t be bet
ter for you to take a place that paid
less. but where the work would be
easier?"
Nome, 1t is better to die payin'
bills than to live OWN EN-"
And IL any of those multitudinous
beings, from Aesop to Poor Richard,
who coined adages and put them in
books for the rest of the world to buy.
could kindly step forward. II would be
a pleasure to introduce them TO this
local daughter of a vanishing race.
who can beat them at their own
game without giving a thought to the
spotlight.
CHE was as buoyantly fresh as the
- Spring breezes of her own Cabin
John. And she had brought a sheaf
OF pussy willow catkins to a woman
she had never laid eyes on, which
shows she was kindly clear through
With the gift went a little ad-
monttion not to put the catkins in
water-just leave them dry and they
would keep their silvery sheen indefi-
nitely. So the receiver put the sheaf
in a prohibition vase-and loved
them.
When she returned to her office
next morning there were the pussy
willows in a big glass jar-redeemed
pastepot-each stem clearly defined In
the gallon OF crystal-clear water.
Which shows, proof positive. that one
janitor, anyhow. Is going to heaven
when he dies-counting by good in
tentions.
The first thing the woman did was
to shake the catkins free of water
and put them back In the prohibition
vase. While she was doing II col
league peeped in for a mornings
greeting, but changed her program
into one Of protest:
why have you taken those pussy
willows out of the water? Put them
right back again"
The owner said she couldn't-the
nice visitor who had given them to
her told her that pussy willows must
be kept, dry"
And let them shrivel up and ruin
their velvety silver? All right, IL you
are going to lose them. anyhow. give
me few stems"
She went out with three stems, for
the reason that two only means
couple, and she had said "a few"-a
fact which she casually mentioned
while the distribution was going on.
Then another colleague looked in
for a word of morning cheer, and at
sight of the catkins. voiced that best
known word in all language
"Gimmie."
The owner passed over one stem
just one stem-but II failed to satisfy:
Don't be so mean--make 1t two
more"
In view of the fact that the gimmie
one never fails to share flowers right
along. from Christmas holly to latest
Autumn dahlias. the owner Of the
catkins passed over two more stems
Just two.
Other visitors meant other varie-
ties of arguments as to the keeping
Of catkins-and the consequent pass
ing over Of stems, until the sheaf had
dwindled down to 10. Returning
from luncheon the woman found a
penciled scrawl tipped against the
Volstead vase-with most of the pussy
willows gone. And the scrawl said
Dear old thing: l know you would
want, me to have all, but | leave a
little for you to remember me by
and so OH
Pussy willows on a desk are lovely,
but not so safe as at home. So the
owner took her four stems to a little
place she calls her shrine, and where
there is a crucifx and a small figure
of the Virgin and a little picture OF
One who died. And now she knows
that the Cabin John giver was right
about not putting water on pussy
willows, for, when she gets home eve
nings, each catkin shines out like
silver velvet against darker velvet
that is dusk.
All of which you might not think
worth the broadca sting, except for
its added proof that the arguments we
fight over one day mean absolutely
nothing to US on the next. Which,
maybe, is Mother Natures way of
keeping her slate clean.