Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1930-03-21
The Odor of the
Chrysanthemurns
By BEATRICE vANDEGRIFT


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John soMERs stood a moment be-
- fore the open door of a florists
and breathed deeply. The cool, clean,
wintry odor of chrysanthemums swept
to his nostrils and brought an ache to
his throat. 1t was just year ago
that lovely, gay Resale Moore had
told him that she never wanted to
see him again.
They were coming home in the
crush after a football game, her
small, pretty face lifted to his among
the scores of nondescrlpt countenances
that pressed meaninglessly around
him. The yellow chrysanthemum
that he had given her curled against
the shoulder of her gray squirrel coat,
a few Of its petals slowly dropping to
be crushed by the unheeding feet that
followed.
She had never seemed so gay or so
loving. She pressed close to him as
If for protection and answered the
touch of his hand on her arm with q
culver.
Between the halves, in the small
respite from the excitement of the
game, she had whispered that she
would marry him. After the game, at
the door of the chic little apartment
that she shared with another girl, she
had said that she wouldn't-that her
career meant too much.
John argued heatedly and old-fash-
ionedly about women and their ca
reers. He wanted her terribly, safe
in his home, just as his wife. He
loved her too much to share her with
an oak desk in cold-blooded adver-
Using house. She had laughed dis
painfully at his views. Then she
melted a bit. To compromise, she
would marry him II he let her keep
on working.
John answered passionately that he
wanted wife, not part-time sweet
heart. At that she said coldly that he
had better go. She never wanted to
see him again. After he had gone,
she buried her bright blond head in
her futuristic sofa cushions and cried.
John, standing before the florists
and breathing in his dead romance
with the living scent of the chrysan-
themums, did not know that she had
wept. He only knew that she had
dismissed him haughtily and that he
had been too proud ever to seek her
out again. But the woody, wintry
fragrance OF the yellow flowers i'm
PEELED him to go into the little shop
and order. dozen to be sent to her
address. He left the address of his
own apartment and TAXED home,
thoughtful and impatient.
In two hours the telephone rang
and the florists voice announced re-
gretfully that there was no Miss
:. Rosalie Moore living at the address
he had given and that no one seemed
to know where she had gone. What
should they do with the chrysanthe-
mumsl
"Oh, send 'em to some hospital" or
dered John Somers drearily. Don't
forget to take off my card"
In a yellow-walled semi-private room
OF. a city hospital, Rosalie Moore was
surrounded by the soft-footed tread
of nurses.
One of them, outside her door,
listened respectfully to the doctor.
"She should be pulling out Of It,"
he said thoughtfully. at was a pref
ty bad accident, of course. but not
this bad"
"She doesn't seem to care about any
thing, DOCTOR" whispered the nurse.
"She just lies there and doesn't try"
Hasn't she any people?"
The nurse shook her head.
swell, try to snap her out o.-zit,
anyhow" ordered the young physi-
clan. There isn't a reason in the
world she shouldn't get WELL"
Maybe few of these good-looking
flowers will cheer her up" volun-
teered a passing probationer, stopping
with an armful of curly yellow chrys-
anthemums. Lets try EN-"
She arranged them attractively be-
side the white iron bed Of the listless
girl who did not even turn her head.
Yet, after a while, their clean autumn
fragrance began to penetrate her tired
senses stimulated her memory.
A year ago The football game,
the close, pressing crowds and John
who loved her. She had been nlnny
to send him away, but too proud ever
to call him back.
The chrysanthemums swept her
mind clean Of pain and listlessness.
Did he send these flowers in remem-
brance? There was no card. But
perhaps he had sent them as silent
token of his love--lf he still loved
her.
Nurse" she said family but with
spirit. "Would you mind calling up
Trafalgar 814O and asking Mr.. John
Somers, II he's there, to come and see
mel"
On the way to the telephone the
nurse met the little probationer again
in the hall, her arms laden with an.
other batch of bright yellow chrysan.
themums.
"More Of EN-" she sighed. 'The
eleventh dozen to come In here today
some rich woman sends them"