• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Front Matter
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 Sweet Violets
 "Only a Little Primrose"
 A White Daisy
 Ragged Robin
 The Iris
 Columbine
 The Deadly Nightshade
 Old Speedwell
 May
 Forget Me Not
 Advertising
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Young lady's library
Title: Sweet flowers
CITATION PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00035195/00001
 Material Information
Title: Sweet flowers
Series Title: Young lady's library
Physical Description: 365, 20 p., 5 leaves of plates : col. ill. ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Mackarness, Henry S., 1826-1881
Evans, Edmund, 1826-1905 ( Engraver )
George Routledge and Sons ( Publisher )
Bradbury, Agnew, & Co ( Printer )
Publisher: George Routledge and Sons
Place of Publication: London (Broadway Ludgate Hill) ;
New York (416 Broome Street)
Manufacturer: Bradbury, Agnew & Co.
Publication Date: 1877
 Subjects
Subject: Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1877   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1877   ( rbgenr )
Girls, Stories for -- 1877
Bldn -- 1877
Genre: Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
Publishers' catalogues   ( rbgenr )
fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: England -- London
United States -- New York -- New York
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Mrs. Mackarness.
General Note: Two illustrations engraved by E. Evans.
General Note: Includes publisher's catalog.
Funding: Preservation and Access for American and British Children's Literature, 1870-1889 (NEH PA-50860-00).
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00035195
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: Baldwin Library of Historical Children's Literature in the Department of Special Collections and Area Studies, George A. Smathers Libraries, University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved, Board of Trustees of the University of Florida.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 001566463
oclc - 22747455
notis - AHJ0228

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Cover1
        Cover2
    Front Matter
        Page i
    Frontispiece
        Plate
    Title Page
        Page 1
        Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Sweet Violets
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Chapter I
            Page 7
            Page 8
            Page 9
            Page 10
            Page 11
            Page 12
            Page 13
            Page 14
            Page 15
            Page 16
            Page 17
            Page 18
        Chapter II
            Page 19
            Page 20
            Page 21
            Page 22
            Page 23
            Page 24
        Chapter III
            Page 25
            Page 26
            Page 27
            Page 28
            Page 29
            Page 30
            Page 31
            Page 32
        Chapter IV
            Page 33
            Page 34
            Page 35
            Page 36
            Page 37
            Page 38
            Page 39
            Page 40
            Page 41
            Page 42
            Page 43
            Page 44
            Page 45
            Page 46
            Page 47
            Page 48
            Page 49
            Page 50
    "Only a Little Primrose"
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
    A White Daisy
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Chapter I
            Page 99
            Page 100
            Page 101
            Page 102
            Page 103
            Page 104
            Page 105
            Page 106
            Page 107
            Page 108
            Page 109
            Page 110
            Page 111
            Page 112
            Page 113
            Page 114
            Page 115
            Page 116
            Page 117
        Chapter II
            Page 118
            Page 119
            Page 120
            Page 121
            Page 122
            Page 123
            Page 124
            Page 125
            Page 126
            Page 127
        Chapter III
            Page 128
            Page 129
            Page 130
            Page 131
            Page 132
            Page 133
            Page 134
        Chapter IV
            Page 135
            Page 136
            Page 137
            Page 138
            Page 139
            Page 140
            Page 141
            Page 142
    Ragged Robin
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
    The Iris
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
    Columbine
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
    The Deadly Nightshade
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
    Old Speedwell
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
    May
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
        Page 315
        Page 316
        Page 317
        Page 318
        Page 319
        Page 320
    Forget Me Not
        Page 321
        Page 322
        Page 323
        Page 324
        Page 325
        Page 326
        Page 327
        Page 328
        Page 329
        Page 330
        Page 331
        Page 332
        Page 333
        Page 334
        Page 335
        Page 336
        Page 337
        Page 338
        Page 339
        Page 340
        Page 341
        Page 342
        Page 343
        Page 344
        Page 345
        Page 346
        Page 347
        Page 348
        Page 349
        Page 350
        Page 351
        Page 352
        Page 353
        Page 354
        Page 355
        Page 356
        Page 357
        Page 358
        Page 359
        Page 360
        Page 361
        Page 362
        Page 363
        Page 364
        Page 365
    Advertising
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
    Back Cover
        Cover3
        Cover4
    Spine
        Spine
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WEET



BY



MRS.



MACKARNESS,



AUTHOR OF 'A TRAP TO CATCH A SUNBEAM," THE YOUNG
LADY'S BOOK," ETC.











LONDON:



GEORGE



ROUTLEDGE AND



SONS,



THE BROADWAY,



LUDGATE.



NEW YORK,



416,



BROOME



STREET.



I877.



S



FLOWERS



























LONDON :



BRADBURY,



AGNEW,



CO., PRINTERS,



WHITEFRIARS.























CONTENTS.



PAGE



SWEET VIOLETS


"ONLY A LITTLE


A WHITE DAISY


RAGGED ROBIN .



THE IRIS



PRIMROSE I



COLUMBINE .



. 233



THE DEADLY NIGHTSHADE


OLD SPEEDWELL.


MAY .


FORGET ME NOT



. 261



. 291



321



5



51



97



. 143



173



. 203



0



.







0



0



0



9



















SWEET



VIOLETS.


















SWEET



VIOLETS.



CHAPTER I.



" How do



a man, as he



you sell your violets,
passed a girl, almost



girl? "



asked



a child, stand-



leaning



against a



railing



in



one of the



London thoroughfares.
Twopence a bunch, sir."



" Twopence.



Oh, me! I've only got a penny



in coppers-can't change a shilling."



"You



shall have it,



eagerly.



sir-for luck,"



"1I haven't



said the



sold a bunch



to-



day."



"Haven't you?



Who do you sell for-your-



self ? "



img
01~



girl,



i






SWEET VIOLETS.



"Yes, sir,



and sister-she's



a cripple,



supports her this way; and nayther she nor
'av 'ad any victuals to-day."



"N aow
' crams'?



ain't you
" and the



telling me
man looked



a nice lot



me



of



at her with a



merry twinkle in his eyes, and a smile breaking



out over his good-looking



strange contrast to the
girl he was addressing.



healthy



wan, pallid



face, in



one of the



" lNo,



sir,



the rale truth,



that I'm not,



sir;



I'm a-telling



we ain't got no



on you
father



nor mother,



sir: father



he



was



killed,



falling



off



the fever,



a house he
sir-and



was, and



it fell in



mother



died



Janie's



ain't never



been



able to



move,



since."



you keep



Janie



and yourself on



penny bunches of violets!



What a little keeping



you must want! answered the man.



pose you



"I sup-



don't have salmon more than twice a



week ? "
The girl stared at him, and answered,-



8



sir;



I



such



and



sir,



she



of



legs,



"And



sir,



two-






SWEET VIOLETS.



9



"Please, sir, we don't have nothing but Mrs.
Jacobs's teapot and some bread."
"Mrs. Jacobs's teapot? what indigestible
food! No wonder you don't get fat, my dear.
Well, look here, give me two more bunches, and
take that and go and get something for supper
more nourishing than a teapot; and taking the
flowers she eagerly offered him, he placed in her
hand a shilling, and with a cheery "good-bye,
and good luck to you," the man went on before
she had time to thank him or offer him the
change.
"Did he mean me to have it all?" she
thought. "I don't believe he did. I'll run after
him."
But with her basket to carry, and the old
leather boots, miles too big for her, on her stock-
ingless feet, she could not catch the young strong
fellow who, striding on so quickly, was soon lost
to sight; and so putting it in the little box
amongst the flowers, in which she carried her
money, she gave up the pursuit, contenting her-





SWEET VIOLETS.



self by saying,



him; "



"If ever she see him



she'd



and then as the weather was cold



gusty-and she



pay
and



knew that Janey wanted food-



she determined to hawk about no more that day,



but go to the shop, and get some bread



and



an



ounce of tea for



a treat for Janey, instead of the



tea leaves from her own breakfast



their



good-



hearted landlady allowed them, and



had



which



she



described as Mrs. Jacobs's teapot."



Happily as she walked to



the shop, which was



on her road home, she sold a few more



bunches



of her fragrant flowers, and so
a piece of butter and an egg



was able



for



Jane



to add
to her



purchases.
And the



young man went



Pier, and, getting on board a



river



on to Hungerford
boat, went up the



to Battersea; and landing there, went



on



to a house in a little clean street, looking brighter
and prettier than all the rest, from the parlour
window of which looked out a face as bright and
clean as the house, as his quick, firm step came



the little garden.



The face was quickly at



10



up






SWEET VIOLETS.



the door.



nineteen or
joyfully,-



It belonged



twenty



to



a young



years old,



who



girl



some



exclaimed,



you dear,



good boy,



And violets-delicious!



to get home
thank you."



"I like that-who said they



were for



you ? "



he said, stooping forward to



kiss



her forehead,



and putting the flower behind him.
Why, John, who should they be for but me ?"



" But suppose I



was to tell you they



mine, given to me by a fair lady;



were



what should



you say then ?"



"I should



say



I didn't



believe



you, John-



that's what I should say.



she said,



Here



he is, mother,"



pushing open the door of



the little



parlour, into which he followed her.
Now, sir, give me the flowers, and



pay you



for them;



let's see, three bunches, two



kisses apiece.
tiptoe so long."



Oh! sit down, I can't stand



Down he sat



as he



was



bidden,



and with



apparent



satisfaction



received



the six kisses



11



soon.



so



let



me



on



" Oh.





SWEET VIOLETS.



bestowed.



on him, while a little old woman,



curious likeness of



what the young man



might



be at her age, sat laughing merrily, and seeming
to enjoy the performance.



" It's



all very fine,"



he said, when



allowed to speak,



"but I tell you I gave a shil-



for those



flowers, ma'am, so



you just



me six more."



"Oh John, you did NOT, did you ?



was naughty-I'll never forgive
was naughty-I'll never forgive



Oh that



you;



I



angry. l



Whereupon she



fell to kissing



again, just as though she was very angry.



"A shilling



for a few violets,



John!"



the old



lady in the corner;



" why, is



flowers so



dear this spring ? "
Well no, mother; I was taken silly, I think.
I knew the little woman liked a flower, so I was



going



to buy one



bunch of



a girl who'd



basket full;



and then she said



it was twopence.



Well, I didn't think



Amy was worth having



all that



spent



on her,"



he



said, looking saucily



up in his wife's face,



"so I offered her a penny.



12



a



ling



he



was



owe



am



him



said



got



a






SWEET VIOLETS. 13

She said so eagerly I might have it, she had
sold none all day-and I looked at her poor,
thin, white cheeks, and her tattered clothing,
and somehow this little face seemed to come
between me and her," he said, laying his hand
on the face which was looking up into his, and
like a soft as I am I took this little lot, and gave
her double their value."
Ah! my boy," said the old lady, one half
the world don't know how the other half lives."
"I say, Amy," he said, in a lower voice, with
a glance at their mother, "she said she sup-
ported a lame sister with selling her flowers."
"Did she, John? Poor girl! I AM glad you
bought them-it may get her a better supper."
I hope so. I shouldn't fancy a teapot my-
self; but there's no accounting for taste."
"A teapot-what do you mean ?"
"Well, I did not know what she meant; but
when I asked her if she had salmon more than
twice a week, she said she only had Mrs. Jacobs's
teapot and some bread."





SWEET VIOLETS.



" Why, sir,



didn't you know,



poor thing, she



meant the leaves were wetted



again



"when Mrs. What's-her-name -- "
"CNo, not Whats-a-name,-Jacobs."



Well,
breakfast,



Jacobs-has f
she fills the pot



finished
up aga



for her;



her tea
in for her.



or
I



can see what she means."
"Ah! there, we are not



"c No,



that we are not.



and make yourself smart,
have company to tea, ain't



all so clever
Now, look
for we are



as you.
here, go
going to



we, mother ? "



"Oh!



yes,



that we are, John.



Amy's little



ladies are coming.



"Bless me!



diamond



I suppose I



must put



studs, and my dress coat and



on my
white



tie, and pumps and silk stockings."



" Of course," said



make



yourself



his wife, laughing.



respectable,



sir.



Clean



"You
boots



clean
your



hands, and



brush up



best; now run away,



your hair,



whilst



and



I get



"Run, must I?



Well, there isn't much room



14



and
look
tea.






SWEET VIOLETS. 15

to run in this large mansion. If I was to go
very fast, I should find myself out of the back
yard, through my neighbour's wall; but I'll do
my best to make haste. Is there any soap ?"
"Soap, yes."
"All right Is there any towel ?" he said,
putting his head in at the door again.
"Oh yes, you tiresome thing !-everything."
Hurrah Then I'll be back in the twinkling
of a bed-post."
"T What a merry heart he has!" said the old
mother.
Yes, hasn't he ? He's like sunshine in the
house: it's thanks to you, you know, mother,-
it's your bright nature shining in his. When
I think of you and all the trouble you've borne
so bravely, I think you the eighth wonder of the
world," said Amy, as she busied herself about
the room, stirring up the fire to make the kettle
boil, getting out from a drawer her best table-
cloth and teapot-real silver-a wedding
present.





16



" Well,



and



SWEET



VIOLETS.



you see, Amy, it's just our natures,



we'd ought to



have such.



be very grateful when



we



There's some as can't help grizzling



if they scratch their fing
while another will break



ers or lose



their



fortune, and still smile over it."
Just like you, mother."



"I don't think



legs



a penny,
and lose a



I smiled much, though, Amy



dear, when my poor legs got bad."
"You.found out how to comfort yourself
John, mother, and never let him lose heart
spirits."



no, poor



boy:



why that would



have



been ungrateful, when he was working
he needed all his good spirits to help hi:



for me,
m along



-to bear the burden I had become to him."



"Ah, bless him !



there's not many like him,



said the happy little wife.



suppose



not,



or you



would



proposed to him in the barefaced way



not have
you did,"



said John, who had entered the room in time to
hear the last speech.



"No,



and
and



"I





SWEET VIOLETS.



" Why, John, I



have



a great



mind to



your ears.



Shall I, mother ? "



"I think he deserves it, my dear."
"I would if I'd only time, but I must make the



toast-the conceit and impudence of



the fellow!



Now cut



the bread,



while I



get



out a pot



jam.)9



"Well, but



you



know



you did, Amy, under



the chestnuts in Bushy Park."



"Now, John,



do hold your tongue



about the



chestnut trees, or I shall put the jam in the tea,



or else some silly thing or other,"
wife, laughing and blushing.



said the little



" Don't



she look guilty, mother;



now I ask



you "



" Well,



John, but I would not tell tales out of



school."



"Never mind,



old



girl,



I was



quite ready to



say 'yes,' wasn't I ?"
I shall do something desperate to you, John,



in a minute.



Oh, look!



here come my



little



darlings,



I declare.



Well,



the table



"is laid,



C



17



box



of





18 SWEET VIOLETS.

put the water in the pot, John dear-it does boil,
-while I open the door;" and she ran out to
admit into her little bright house two little girls,
about five and eight years old, with their nurses.
Then there was such a hugging and kissing,
such a buzz of many voices in the little room,
together with the singing of the kettle, which did
its best towards the general hilarity, and happier
faces, lighter hearts, and merrier tongues never
sat at any banquet than amongst the little party
at tea at John Milman's.








CHAPTER II.



IN a
windows



narrow dirty court,
of which were so



in a house the
dirty that the in-



habitants
from them
the row of
faced them
for the pan
stones thro
J



could not have seen any prospect
had it been even more inviting than
tumble-down wretched dwellings that
L, old pieces of filthy rags doing duty
ies of glass which had been broken by
wn by the shoeless, wretched children



who played in the gutter all day,-in such a
house, in the back attic, on a mattress laid on
two broken chairs, was a small spare form,
which might have been a woman's or a child's, so
old-looking and worn and wan were the pinched
features of the poor pale face. There was
scarcely any furniture in the room. The walls,
c2





SWEET VIOLETS.



covered with



filthy



paper, were broken away in



places,
which



showing



the



laths.



A bedstead,



lay a ragged counterpane and a piece



on
of



torn blanket, stood in one corner; a wooden box,
on which was a bottle with a piece of rushlight
stuck in it, a chair, and a table, one leg of which



was broken,



comprised



"the



household



gods.



in the desolation



lay



the wan suffering



.And



form on the mattress.
Presently the door opened, and a light seemed
to come in with it which shone on the sufferer's



face;



for a smile,



strange visitor to those



features,
carrying



spread



a basket



over



them



half filled



as a girl entered



with



violets



and



primroses.



" Here I come, Janey:



haven't sold them all,



you see; so there they are for you to look at till



to-morrow,"



she said,



placing the basket



its fragrant burden near the sick child.



"I'm glad and



I'm



sorry,



Nelly:



you've got



no money, I suppose?"
"Oh yes! a little.



I've sold



the



half, you



20



sad



with






SWEET



VIOLETS.



know, but I couldn't



see him.



I



stood



the same place,



so here



goes the sixpence back



in the money-box;"



which,



and, opening the cupboard



like Mother Hubbard's, was quite bare,



a few broken



bits of crockery ware,



took a small box from the top shelf and put in it
a sixpence.
Ain't you never going to spend that, Nelly ?"



"Not unless you want food,



as long



back.



as I



can,



Janey.



in hopes of



He wasn't, you see,



I'll keep



giving it him



a rich gentleman



; he



was a working sort of man, and sixpence



pence to him,



is six-



I'll lay."



" It's



a great chance



if you ever do see him



again out there in all that bustle and



So many feet seem treading



crowd.



up and down for



ever.
like,



I



lay



here wondering what they



are all



and where they are all going to."



" I often stand amongst them wondering



Janey;



but see, all among these flowers lies our



supper-I'm sure



you



want some:



has Mrs.



Jacobs given you anything ?"



21



just



in



save



she



it



too,





SWEET



VIOLETS.



" Yes, she brought me some broth to-day,



the



district-lady sent; but it wasn't nice;



eat it.



I couldn't



Nothing does seem nice,-I can't eat any-



thing; but never mind, Nelly," she said, putting



her thin
stooped to



arms round her sister's



get



the



things



from



neck



as she



the basket,



"it



will be the sooner over, and these heavy, weary



limbs will pain me no more: 'there's



nae pain



nor care in the land o'



words in a childish, weak,
voice, and Nelly said-



the leal.' She



but



sang



exquisitely sweet



"Don't, Janey: I



can't



see what I'm



doing



when you sing."



The big tears had filled her eyes



and made a mist before them.



" All



right, I



won't, Nelly.



I



often wish



could go out singing



as I used,



and help



Usen't I to



bring a lot o' money home ?"



Yes, Janey, but I never liked you a-being in
the streets: you was always such a wan wee
thing !"



" Yes,



but that



helped me;



for people



would



pitying



things as



they



passed



22



the



you.



say



me.



One





SWEET VIOLETS. 23

woman gave me a shilling once, with tears
dropping down her cheeks, and said-I remem-
ber it so well, Nelly, and often think of it-' I
should sing in heaven soon.' Ah!" she said,
sighing and lifting her eyes to the blackened
ceiling above her, beyond which she seemed to
see the bright-eyed choir and all the heavenly
host singing their songs of praise; for a long,
longing look came into her sad eyes.
Well, you ain't there yet, in spite of her," said
Nelly somewhat roughly. She dared not indulge
in sentiment; it did not match with the hard,
stern reality of her daily life. To work hard for
a bare subsistence, to sleep cold, to hunger daily,
to know no change nor brightness in her life since
first she could remember gazing with craving
eyes at the portion of food given her by her
mother, had almost taken out of her all womanly
tenderness-all belief in love, in rest, in hope.
Life to her represented only a piteous struggle
to live; death simply a release from struggling.
But the poor, gentle, suffering, helpless sister was





SWEET



VIOLETS.



the one tie which made it seem worth her while to



fight on, to keep honest, patient,



earnest, the poor



babe she-scarcely more herself-had taken from
the dead mother's breast, and loved ever since with
a yearning love which did not show itself in tender



loving



words, but



in the hard



self-denial, that made her
I



she earned to



the sick



give



girl and



daily toil-the
the scanty food
go without her-



Alas! too many such lives are passed



crowded cities;



children



whose



childhood's



and it is well for the little happy
bright merry days pass on as



should-without



toil or sorrow-



guarded



from the



knowledge of



evil and sin



loving care, to remember the sadder lives of these
little sisters who know not, nor ever will know,
a life so bright as theirs.



24



self.



in



by







CHAPTER III.


SOME few weeks after the purchase of his



violets John Milman



was



again



making for the



Pier on his way home, when a loud cry of"



Hie!



arrested him; and, turning quickly, the man who



had stopped him called out,



" There's



a gal keeps



a-running after you



" and to his surprise he saw



-and he remembered her at once--the poor violet-
seller making the best of her way to him through
the crowded thoroughfare, and with the old
difficulty of the wretched boots impeding her



progress.



He walked back towards her, and



smilingly asked if she wanted him for a customer
again.



"No,



sir,"



she said, panting for breath, and



wiping her hot face



0



" it's



this here



as is





SWEET VIOLETS.



your.



I've



been



a-watching



for



you



every



day since."
Mine-what? "
This here sixpence,



sir,"



to him.-" it aint a bad un,



very own-as I've kep



continued



eagerly,



she said, handing it
sir; really it's your



in a box ever since,"



finding he said



nothing,



she
but



stood and handled the coin.



" Why, girl, I don't know what you mean :



did



I drop sixpence ?"
No, sir, you give me a shilling for sixpen'orth



of flowers, and never stopped for no change.



I



runned arter yer then, I did;



but my



boots is so



old they won't let me run much."



" Why,



John,



his



you very



regarding



eyes which



extraordinary



party,"



her with the merry twinkle



brightened



all his



declare



you ought



to be shown



as a very



miracle of honesty.



to help you



and



the



I meant the shilling for you,
lame sister to some better



victuals
sixpence



than



back,



an indigestible



teapot.



Take the



and give me another sixpenny-



26



S



aid
in
"Ic



face,






SWEET VIOLETS.



27



worth of flowers,-lilies of the valley, eh! they
are beauties. Now tell me where you live."
He wrote down in his pocket-book what she



told him, and, wishing her good-by, he i
on his way, and she, poor thing, with a lig
heart than she had had since the sixp
burdened it, put that and the one he
her together in the box under the flov
and went back to the street-corner where
usually took her stand, and where a few
dealt regularly with her expected to
her.
It was near a fashionable draper's. an



went
:hter
ence
paid
vers,
she
who
find



d



it



amused the poor girl to see the ladies in their
carriages flocking into the shops. She would
stand looking at their rich dresses, wondering
how much they cost, how many they had-if
they were better dressed than that on Sunday
-what they had for dinner, such people as
they-something better than a saveloy or piece
of dry bread, she fancied; wondering if they
were ever hungry, ever thirsty or cold. Some-



I- /





SWEET



VIOLETS.



times



she sold



a few



flowers



to



them,



or to



the



men-servants



carriages.



She had



after parting with



whilst



only



they
just



John, when



waited



for



taken her
an elegant



the



stand
open



carriage



drew up,



age, accompanied



and



a girl



about



by her mother,



her



alighted



entered



the shop.



The



girl



looked



at her as



passed,



and



beautiful



a gleam



face,



as she



of pity



came



whispered



into



some-



thing



eagerly to



her mother;



to which



replied,



"Oh!



no, my dear love,



certainly not-never



buy in the street: those flowers carry all sorts of
infection and horrible things."



They were not long
they came out again t



in the shop,



;he



young



and when



lady got back



into the carriage, and the mother walked



on to



a shop
mother



a few



doors



out of sight,



beyond:



and



then



she watched



her



eagerly beckoned



to Nelly.



look ill, and hot,



and tired,"



kindly to



her.



"No, I



don't want your



28



she
her



own
and



she



" You



said



she





SWEET



VIOLETS.



flowers; but tell me, have you earned anything
to-day ? "



"1Not much,
shall sell more



my lady, yet; but I dare



later.



Won't



you buy



say



I



some



lilies,



my lady ?-they're so very sweet."



"( No; mamma does not like me to have your



flowers.



Do you live on what you earn like this?"



"I tries to, my lady," was the sad reply.
"Have you a mother and father ? "



"No, lady-only a sick sister



to keep as well



as myself."



The tears rose to the bright



hastily
placed



taking



five



a purse



shillings



from



blue



eyes,



her pocket,



in the astonished



and
she



girl's



hand, and motioned her away-just as her mother
returned to the carriage.
You've not been buying flowers now, Eveline,
when I told you not ? "
No, ma, of course not; you said no."
You were talking to her ?"



" Yes.



Did you look



at her ?-who



did she



remind you of? "



29





SWEET VIOLETS.



"My



dear, I



don't know;



I did



not look at



her."
Mother, a face that I have never forgotten,



and never



shall forget-the widow



who



came



to beg



papa



to do



something



for her,



her husband was



killed



"in his



service,



know--



"Papa would



not-and quite right too.



was not called upon in the least; it was nothing



to do



with



him: it was



the



builder's



place



help his workmen."



"Oh!



but her story was



so sad,



her face



piteous, the weary look in her poor eyes haunted



me for months; and



I see it often



now,



and I



saw it again in that girl's face."



"I know, my



dear, you made yourself very



absurd about it at the time;



and your



father



and I both
so romantic



laughed



at



and impulsive.



you-young



girls



I dare say



a very



less



good



made



thing



a fine



for the woman:



harvest



of



her



she doubt-
husband's



accident."



30



as



and



you



He



to



so



are
was



it





SWEET VIOLETS. 31

The girl turned with a gesture of annoyance
away from her mother, and said no more; and
they drove home to the splendid house, the
building of which had cost, beyond its costly sum
of money, one human life; and the orphan girl
hurried to her dreary lodgings, to show with
pride and joy to her suffering sister the wealth
she had got that day.
Many times more did the young lady visit the
shop near which, with her basket of flowers,
stood poor Nelly, whose sad face lighted with a
smile when she saw her, and to whom she
always dropped a curtsey. She could never
forget the beautiful face which had looked with
such pity on her. Her mother would not, or
could not, see the likeness to the pale widow
who came to plead her sad cause, but promised
Eveline that as she appeared to take some
interest in her she might inquire where she
lived, and see how they could help her, the next
time they saw her; but it was in the height of
the season, and Eveline had many engagements,





32 SWEET VIOLETS.

so that some time elapsed before she again
thought of the poor flower girl. Then twice she
drove to the street, but she was not there; and so
the subject faded from her memory.








CHAPTER IV.



IT was springtime



again.



Beneath the shelter



of their leaves lay the fragrant violets; prim-
roses dotted all the banks, mingling with blue-
bells and daffodils; and groups of children were
busy filling baskets with the fair blossoms, in
wood and lane; and at one pretty ivy-covered
cottage, beside the gate of a noble park, two
children stand with hands and pinafores full of



violets.
"Only violets, JE
violets."
"I've ony dot violet
"Come in, then;'
door, the little girl
lowed by her brother,



ack,



father



said, only



;s," said the tiny boy.
and pushing open the
entered the cottage, fol-
and running up to a girl,
D



J6





SWEET



VIOLETS.



seated near the window at



work,



they showered



the sweet flowers into her lap.
She looked up with a smile, as



she



gathered



some of them in her hand.



" Thank



you,



dears-thank



stooping to kiss them.



" That's



right,



little



ones,"



said



a bright



voice



from



another room,



the door



of



which



stood open;



"get



a jug,



Jim, and put them in



water for her-we loves violets, don't us ?



first brought



us to know our kind



and



They
useful



Nelly, and now we



don't



know what we



should



do without her."
"Why, whoever is father bringing along?" said



woman,



coming into



the



room.



"I do



believe they are coming



here, and my hands are



all floury."



Nelly



was tying up



the



flowers



"in bouquets,



silently,



something



glistening
b t



on them



which



was not dew.
"There's no 'need



to sell



them now, dear,"



said the woman, kindly and cheerfully.



311



you,"



she



said,



the





SWEET VIOLETS.



Nelly only nodded her head: as the door
opened, and her old friend John Milman ei
tered, followed by a young lady, Nelly sprang
from her seat, a flush of pleasure and surprise
covering her face.
'C You remember me ? said the lady. Then
you are the flower-girl I once spoke to ?"
She was, ma'am; she's our head nurse
now," said John, with the old merry smile.
Yes, my lady," said Nelly, earnestly; "they
took me, they did, from the streets, from cold
arid hunger, and fed and clothed me."
",' Inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the
least of these," said the, lady, turning to John
and looking at him with her beautiful eyes full
of tears, oh! how much you are to be envied.
I tried to find you," she said, speaking to Nelly,
" for long; and when I sent to you, having dis-
covered your address through a mere chance
from our man-servant who met and remembered
you, you were gone."
OYes, ma'am, I had the good fortune," said
D2





36 SWEET VIOLETS.

John, "to get made carpenter on this estate; and
as my good little wife here was beginning to
want a little help with the young 'uns, I be-
thought me this poor girl would like to take the
situation of head nurse in my family. And by
ways unnecessary to plague you with, I got her
poor sister into a hospital, and brought her
along with us. We've been here a year and a
half, and I don't think any of us regret it, I
told you how her honesty first interested
me."
You did, Milman; and to me she was inte-
resting from a fancied likeness which I will
tell you about some day. At any rate I am
satisfied about her now: she cannot be in better
hands. My brother speaks in the warmest
terms of you and your wife; and it is a strange
coincidence th.t here on his estate I should find
the girl who awoke in me such interest and pity.
Let me buy those violets of you for old acquaint-
ance sake," she said, with a sweet smile, taking
the bunches Nelly at once handed to her; she





SWEET VIOLETS. 37

left in their place a golden coin, which made
poor Nelly's eyes sparkle.
The sort of strange instinct which had first
drawn Eveline to the poor flower-girl was right;
she was indeed the child of the widow who had
pleaded in vain to her father, and it was
stranger than fiction, as fact so often is, that on
her brother's estate, in the home of one of his
servants, the orphan should find a happy refuge.
John Milman's poor old mother had gone to her
rest, and with this good situation he had
obtained, he could quite well afford to carry out
the benevolent wish to assist the poor orphans.
Nelly he brought home to help his wife in the
charge of the little ones, who were so near of an
age that they were a heavy charge to his bright
little wife, who gladly hailed the arrival of Nelly.
And she, in gratitude for the sweet, clean, cheer-
ful home, tried her hardest to be useful and
attentive, and to learn to be handy with her
needle and all such neat and housewifely ways
that Amy could so:well instruct her in.





38 SWEET VIOLETS.

What a change it was from that miserable
attic! She who had never seen the sun rise or
set, never known the glory of a heaven all
aglow with rose-colour and gold, scarcely known
save by its scorching rays, as she stood: in the
hard streets, that the sun did shine; in speech-
less wonder now, holding the children's hands,
who had been gathering their laps full of
flowers, was allowed to gaze at the grand
glory of the great light sinking into rest
amongst the rosy, gold-tipped clouds, or knee-
deep in sweetly scented grass, helping to gather
the white starry flowers with the golden eyes,
and the shining yellow ones the children called
buttercups and daisies, with a sort of strange
delight which made her throat ache and large
tears fill her eyes. The flowers, which to sell
had gained for her and her sister their poor
hard fare, she wondered now to see in purple
masses, scenting the air with their fragrance, on
every bank by the roadside, gathered at will by
happy children at their play, and flung aside as





SWEET VIOLETS. 39

worthless when their play was ended. And so
as she gathered them, with bye's so full' of
wonder and admiration, her little companions
would laugh out gladly, and say, Why, Nelly,
zem's only vi'lets;" but learning her love for
them, and listening to her tale of how in the
streets in the long weary days she wandered
with naked feet and sold them for the poor meal
of dry bread, they gathered them for her in
handfuls, never coming in from any ramble
without what they now always called "Nelly's
Lowers."
In one of the best and largest hospitals John
Milman had placed poor Janey. And there
under the kind care, and with management and
good food, she was mending slowly, but they said
surely.
"You shall go and see Janey to-morrow,
Nelly," said Mrs. Milman, as they sat together
in the evening, the little ones all in bed, John
smoking his pipe, and they two at work. Nelly's
face brightened. In all her gratitude for her





40 SWEET VIOLETS.

happy home she often felt that she would go
back to her old life of toil and suffering to have
her sister again beside her. They were very,
very kind to her, but they could have done as
well without her. There was no one now to
watch for her coming, to listen with eager love
to the sound of her footstep; no one now to
whom she was all in all; so that the days when
visitors were allowed at the hospital were looked
forward to with an intense longing, and kind
Mrs. Milman spared her whenever she could.
But of course the journey had to be considered:
it was too far to walk, and so it could only be
managed when some cart was going to town
from the village, and coming back again in the
evening.
Then the kindly people packed a basket for
her of things for the sick girl, and some dinner
for Nelly herself, and a large bunch of flowers;
and the children filled her pockets with sweets,
anid offered their favourite toys to take to her
sic1 sister, and watched her away as long as they





SWEET VIOLETS. 41

could see her down the long dusty road, waving
their handkerchiefs and hats, and then looking
forward to hear the story in the morning of the
great big house where Janey was and of the many
beds, and of the ladies with the strange black
dresses and white caps who waited on the poor
people so tenderly. Nelly had always some-
thing fresh to tell them of the poor little chil-
dren, no older than themselves, lying in cots, with
toys on little tables fastened to them, brought
by kind friends, but which sometimes they were
too ill to play with or care to look at.
But poor Nelly did not always return the
happier for these visits. Janey had learned to do
without her-her suffering had made her, as it
often does, selfish. She found here comfort and
assistance, she was cared for, and seemed of some
consequence; and in contrast with the old days,
these were so much brighter. Unlike Nelly, she
never sighed for the old times back again. Her
whole talk, as Nelly sat beside her, was of herself,
of the dinners she had, of what the doctors said





42 SWEET VIOLETS.

of her; but she seldom asked what Nelly was
doing-whether the life that up till this time
had been devoted to her, was brighter-if she
were better fed, better cared for-if her home
was happy, and the people kind still; and
though Nelly was glad and thankful that the sick
"girl had -no regrets nor longings to be home
again with her, still there was a sensation of
pain in the utter forgetfulness, and the feeling
that even this tie to life was gone now; she
was of no use, no importance any more, even to
Janey.
But at the first sight of the little rose-covered
cottage, of the children's faces at the gate
watching for her-the cheery "Come along,
Nelly-glad to see you back," from Mrs. Milman,
and John's hearty "Well, lass, ready for supper ?
it's ready for you," gratitude for the mercy which
had sent her such friends, such a home, soothed
her and restored her to a somewhat happier
frame of mind. The children were always full
of eager questions, but were sent to bed with a





SWEET VIOLETS,

promise to tell them all about it in the
morning.
This night, after supper, John said-
"Nelly girl, what do you think of your
sister; will she soon be able to come out? "
Yes, sir, I think she will. I don't expect, by
what the nurse said, as she'll be allowed to stay
much longer: she can walk brave now for a
little while, and she looks well, and so pretty,
and I've been thinking--" and she looked up at
John and stopped.
"Thinking what's to be done with her when
she does come out-exactly. You talk to Amy
about it after supper: we've been thinking too;;"
and so after supper Amy said-
"Nelly, I heard that Miss Truman, in the
village, wants an apprentice to the dressmaking.
She does a very good business there-the Hall
people always employ her; and, you know, John
and me were thinking, if you did not mind, we
would put Janey there. We have had a little
money given us for the purpose by a friend-





44 SWEET VIOLETS.

only a small sum is required-and when Janey
is a grand West-end dressmaker she can pay it
back, if she likes," she said, laughing.
"Yes," said Nelly. She had no words to
express herself even when she felt the most: edu-
cation she had had none; and the old supplicating
words she had learned to ply her trade of flower-
selling, the oft-repeated We ain't had no food
to-day, lady, do buy 'em-they're werry cheap"
--were about the longest sentence she ever got
out; and although the pains that Amy had taken
with her had much improved her, still, when any-
thing affected or interested her, she could find
no words to say what she felt, and so now at
this generous offer she murmured only "Yes."
"You would like it, Nelly, wouldn't you ? "
asked Amy.
Yes, ma'am, thank you," said Nelly, "if she
will."
"We will hope she will: we can tell her
how nice it will be. You will be close together
you know."





SWEET VIOLETS.



45



"Yes, ma'am," said Nelly again. Close toge-
ther, yes; but not in one home-never more now,
she thought. But still it was better than that
far-off hospital; and she looked forward with a
great yearning wish to the day when she should
be told to fetch Janey away.
It came at length, the summons, and Nelly
went again in the little cart to fetch her. The
children were so charmed to see Nelly's sister



-she who
"big house
They should
their eyes.



had been so long in the wonderful
" with the ladies they called Sisters.
I really see her She was a heroine in
Miss Truman was a busy, bustling



little woman, but very kind hearted, and had
made every comfortable preparation for the re-
ception of her new apprentice. She was to take
her supper that evening with Nelly, and John had
promised to see her to her new home afterwards.
Janey seemed shy and strange at first, but
looked very well and very pretty. John said
he was sorry she was so pretty; and with it all
he liked Nelly's homely face better.





46 SWEET VIOLETS.

.Jane seemed to like the idea of being a dress-
maker very well, raised no objection, and left
the cottage for her new home very contentedly.
One day Nelly, who had been sitting working
by the fireside, talking to and playing with the
baby on the ground beside her, said suddenly
to Amy as she entered the room--
"Please do you mind telling me who paid
the money for Janey to go to Miss Truman ?"
"Do you want to know, Nelly; does it
matter?" she said, smiling.
"Yes, I like to; because of saying, 'God
bless you know, like you taught me."
"Poor child!" said Amy with a kindly smile,
"Well, the truth is John got the money together:
he gave a little as he could afford, and the
lady, Miss Eveline Howard, and her brother,
made it up."
Thank you-I see. Janey seems happy."
"Yes, I was there yesterday; but there was
something in Mrs. Milman's manner that made
Nelly look suddenly in her face to see if she





SWEET VIOLETS. -

could read there aught of wrong or sorrow to
Janey; but Mrs. Milman turned away, and said
no more.
And so the summer days went by, and cold
gusty winds blew over moor and meadow,and
Nelly's short span of content and freedom .from
anxiety was over. Janey was again her greatest
trouble. Whether her long suffering had made
her temper bad, or the interest and care shown
her by the gentle Sisters in the hospital had
spoiled her, any way she was most troublesome,
giving rude and impertinent answers to her
kind little mistress, and refusing to listen- to
Nelly's remonstrances; and one day she came
down to the cottage and said she had left; she
said she could not and would not stay with.that
odious little woman; she hated sewing, hated every-
thing she had to do, and she was going to service.
"But when? and where?" asked poor bewildered
Nelly. "When? directly," she said--"Where ?-
to the 'Blue Lion,'-barmaid, she should like that
-at any rate she meant to try it;"' !and. so the





48 SWEET VIOLETS.

foolish girl went, having got the place herself,
without consulting her sister, and soon found how
foolish she had been. The noise, the late hours,
the rough work, soon broke down the delicate con-
stitution, and she had once more to become an
inmate of the hospital. Again Nelly took her
journey in the little cart; and one cold winter's
evening, when the wheels went noiselessly through
the snow, Nelly came back with eyes swollen with
tears: she had seen her last on earth of the sister
who had been such a charge to her. The wilful
spirit was at rest, and Nelly was alone in the
world; but her good friends more than ever
heaped kindnesses on her, and in time she grew
to love them as her kith and kin. John used
to laugh and tell her he should not rest till she
was married-he could have no peace until he
had washed his hands of her; and he found his
rest at last, for Nelly won the heart of a good
brave young fellow who worked under John,
and in a little cottage of her own, comfortably
furnished for her by Miss Howard, Nelly





SWEET VIOLETS.



passed her now-peaceful,



in the
tearful



spring



eyes



happy



time looking



on the fragrant



days, but



with full heart



still
and



blossoms which



covered the banks, in tender memory of the days
in which she sold in the London streets



SWEET



VIOLETS.



49



E






























r



w 2-.~t~tw



w



I,



*11

I*I



I,/ j



I



1f.



"* It was erl spring, w.".. .. -r -g ath erin. primr.se. ,
vio':.. -.. r L iL .ie "



ONLY A LITi.1% PiRIMrOSI.



i



---



\ 'II \



*** */ -* -"
/^;;I ^~
*^^sy
^s gi '
^^*



'1
-J>



r=-.-=- :
;5-1 5 -:
.,.; -
-,,;a
1;''



:.=



.s

%
55
:r :e
----e r
r

"I

I
1



Snn 1 .7 "my a













" ONLY



A



LITTLE



PRIMROSEE"



*











"ONLY



A



LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



A HOT
and in



summer



the



large



day was (
sleeping



Drawing to its



nursery



close,



at Afton



Lodge,



lay in their little beds,



four very



happy



children-wide awake,
hot to sleep, and so



the rogues: it was



too



light that little Mary



declared it must be morning, not night, and that



it was silly to



go



bed-nurse must be dreaming.



Two



or three times had



nurse



been in, and



thrown over the children the sheets which they



said they really could not keep



because



was so hot.



"You are



hot



because



you toss about and



on,



it






" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



play

"but

sleep



so, you



there,



in



this



foolish little



bless



your



heat.



little



I'll



things,"



hearts,



ask



said nurse;

you cannot



mamma



now,



if



you're



very good



and



quiet,



to



let



you



stop up



an hour later,



Really,



poor



during



dears,"



all the



she



summer weather.



continued,



turning



the under nurse, who



room to tell



as well



up,



was just coming



her supper was ready,



as kicking about



here



into the



"they're quite



now whilst



gone



down



try



and



keep



them



quiet,



Jane."



"Nurse!



was not



nurse,"



me,



putting her knees



dropping them



called



Mary,



Emmeline,



up



down



to make a



suddenly



she



"c now



will



mountain,
to make



that

keep



and



me



laugh."



" Well, you shouldn't laugh,



wouldn't



do



it.



If



you



Miss Mary,



are the



then



one that



54



to



I'm



she



it's





"CC ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



plays, Emmy, you



will



have



morrow when the others sit up.



No, Baby, no,"



she said, going



to the



cot in which



a beautiful



curly-headed



darling,



scarce two years



down to sleep,



but like the



rest greatly



preferring to play; "no more 'bo-peep'



to-night;



a good



boy."



Very



tightly



he screwed



up the



big



blue sunny eyes



nurse's order;



but a little smothered laugh from



the next little bed,



and
the



the tumbled



edge of the



opened



golden



cot,



them



head



wide again,



peeped up over



and the little plump baby



fingers clutched
to stand up and



the sides
peep over



to aid in the attempt
into the bed, where,



hid now under the clothes, was the little sister a



year older, whose laugh



had attracted him, and



been too severe a test for his obedience.



"Now really,"



said nurse,



"I shall



presently



55



to



go



to



bed



to-



put



old,



was



shut



eves
a



like



at



his





"O ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



have to



on the
back;



be cross-now, Minnie, put your head up



pillow
and you



directly-you two turn
have poor little doggie,



back

Baby,



cuddle to



and
and



she



sleep-he's



brought



him



so tired,
a large



poor



soft



doggie; "



white



dog,



laid it on the pillow by his flushed, dimpled



face, pulled down the blinds to darken the room;



and



having



them all,



thus,



as she



thought,



she went down to her supper,



quieted
leaving



Jane in charge.



But she had scarcely got to the



"bottom
again:



of



the



Emmy



stairs when



and



Mary



they were



having



all



alive



turned face



to



face, were



playing



at being in a tent,



raised



the



sheet



over the



bed posts to represent



the canvas



; Minnie was trying



to stand on her



head,



his



and



cot,



and



a triumphant



Baby was pulling



throwing it



" dere "



everything



down on the



after



each



out of



floor with
expulsion.



56



to
to



and



had





"C ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



Jane,

leave



perhaps

them



s wisely, th

alone,-they



ought it



was best



would play till



to



they



were tired, and

seat beside the



then



go to sleep, so taking her



open window of the day nursery,



into which the other room opened, she sat quietly

looking out into the pretty garden, busied with



her own thoughts, and left the little rebels to



as they would.



Jane's



plan was successful,



do

for



it appeared



that



now



continually told to be



they

quiet,



were

they



no longer



were



more



willing



to be



so,



and growing tired



which there was no audience and no opposition,



they laid



themselves down



to rest,



Baby with



his head at the foot of the



cot,



on the



mattress,



having



thrown



out the bed



clothes,



which,



in



such weather,



he evidently considered



superfluous.



nurse



spoke



to



her



mistress



mf
dI



of



fun,



to



bare



The



next



day





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



when



she



came, as



usual, up



to the



nursery



Mary
being



and



six



Emmeline



and



seven



down



years



to breakfast,



were



promoted



to that honour, and asked if



be



it



allowed to sit up an hour



so very difficult



to get



the



children



later,



them



to



might



as she found
sleep in the



heat.



" Well,



Mrs.



I have



Enfield,



"if



no objection,



they



will



nurse,"



be



good



said
and



not make



home



tired



papa



and



scold,
likes



you



to



know



be



he



quiet



comes



in



the



evening.
They
possible
master



all



vociferously



professed



amount of goodness,



Baby,



who



did



the



except



greatest



of



not understand



course



the



drift of the



conversation, and



was sufficiently



occupied
pinafore,



in



with



feeding



himself,



or rather



bread and milk.



58



take
who



to



his





"C ONLY



A LITTLE PRIMROSE."



"Oh !



nurse, look,-Baby is



making



himself



in such a hopeless mess," said his mother.



" Yes, he is, ma'am,"



said nurse, complacently,



"but you

dear-we



see he must



keep



a few



have



old



a learning,



pinafores



pretty



on pur-



pose."



" Well,



I hope he will soon learn



*



we could



not have
Could we,



such a dirty



little



boy



at



our table.



Mary?"



" Me don't



" No,



you



able to come
mamma: let



soon as

walk."



they



"pill," said Minie.
are older-and will



down
them

have



to



go



ver'



breakfast with



under



finished,



the trees,



it



is



y soon

papa c



nurse,



too warm to



Mrs. Enfield



went



hand



in



hand



with



little girls down the long gallery



which led



from



the rooms occupied



by the



children to the other



59



be

and



as



her





"cC ONLY



60



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



part of the house, and down the



broad



staircase,



lighted



by



the



bright



morning



sun,



which



streamed in through the large casement



on the landing, which



little room,



window



was wide enough for



a



and in which was a stand of flowers,



that sent



their



fragrance



all about



the house;



reaching



the



dining-room



the little girls



sprang
against
hound,



towards a



the



who



gentleman, who was leaning



window playing



stood



before



with



a large



deer-



him watching with his



large luminous eyes his master, who was making



" trust" with pieces



of biscuits



on his



black nose.



"Ah!



little



maids,



how



d'ye



do,"



he



said.



"NNow see how

there's a lesson



well Beppo has learnt this trick:
in obedience for you."



The children



were



greatly



amused



mained watching the



dog till the



breakfast



and



him



cold



and



re-



was





"C' ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



served, and



mamma called



them



to take



their



places.



"Where is Miss Denbigh," said Mrs.



Enfield,



"and Margaret."



" They



are here,



mamma,"



said



a bright



young voice, and a girl about fourteen sprang



room,



followed by



a tall



handsome



woman,

said, a



with a



face



story,-a fine



that was, as



poetical face



vrs.



with



Enfield



large



earnest eyes, in which was



pression
memory;



that

her



seemed



at times



a sad



occasioned by some



mouth was full



and



red,



ex-

old



ing, when the rare smile lighted her face, superb



white teeth, and her hair, which was



abundant,



was a



rich



beautifully



brown,

dressed.



soft



and glossy,



She



had



and



been



for



always
some



years governess to



Mrs.



Enfield's



children,



they were all



very fond



of her, even the



babies



61



into



the



display-



and





"< ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



loved



her,



for



she



was as charming



nursery



as in the



schoolroom.



perfect sympathy with children,



into their

over the I



sorrows



brokenn



and joys:



doll



as over



entered



warmly



was as distressed



the



difficulties



of



the lessons,

aid to Mrs.



and in



short was a



most



invaluable



Enfield in every way.



" Papa,"



said



Emmeline



when



breakfast



ended,



she



had climbed to his



knee, as



her custom,
until-until



"9 we



ever



are going

so late."



to stop



up



to-night



" I have



no idea



what



time



child."



"( You funny papa-it isn't any



time."



"Not



any



time!



then



you



mean



you're not going to



bed at all



to night."



" No, papa, let me explain,"



said Mary, who on



the strength of her



thirteeen



months'



seniority



in



the



She



had



a



it



was



that



is,
is)



"my



to



say





"cc ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



felt herself better



able to



make



papa



under-



stand.



"Nurse asked



mamma if



we might sit



hour longer



during



this



very hot weather



that's what Emmy means."



"Oh I see



now-and



an hour



longer



than



seven is ten, isn't it ? "



"Papa !



no!



Nine," said E]

favourite hour,



certainly not-



mmy, triumphantly,



and to



sit



that



up till then



highest ambition.



"C No, no,



eight,



Emmy,



seven



and



one are



eight!



aren't they, papa ? "



said Mary.



" Yes,



Mary,



I think so



*
7



at



least



they were



when I was a little girl."



"Little girl!



now,



papa, you know you never



were a little girl."
How do you know ? "



63



up

; a



an



nd



her



was

her



"((





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



" Because people don't be little girls and then



grow



big means "



said Emmy decidedly.



"Don't



they really now ?



well if I



stay long



with



you



I shall



really



become



too clever,



I'll

off



go
his



windows



took



at once,"



knee,



on



the little



and



"C papa"



to the



girls



lifting



went through



lawn,

away,



the



and



little



the



Miss



thing
open



Denbigh



and promising



to



come



with



them under the



trees for



an hour



before



lessons,



they



ran off to



get



their



hats,



and under the large lime trees, I
which ran through the grounds,



two younger children,



)y the little lake



they found



the



and played together, until



3Miss



Denbigh



gave



the word to



return to



house



for lessons,



and



the little



ones



to their



morning sleep.



The schoolroom was a



very charming



one:



Mrs.



Enfield was



of the



opinion



that children



64



so



the





'C ONLY



A LITTLE PRIMROSE."



were more



healthy,



happy,



and



good



if their



surroundings were agreeable, so she had selected
for nursery and school-room the very pleasantest



rooms she could.



Bright with a pretty paper,



trellis-work



of hops on



a green ground-the



furniture



polished maple,



a green



carpet



which



white



blossoms were



piano, book-cases, a little couch
bigh, and some admirable prints



strewn-a



for Miss



pretty
Den-



on the walls-



flowers in a



stand



in the window which



looked



out into Mrs. Enfield's rose-garden, all combined



the school-room most inviting,



pleasant sitting-room for



Miss



and



a



Denbigh-who



passed most of her time there.



to go down to the



drawing-room,



She cared



generally



little

beg<



going Mrs.



alone,



Enfield to excuse her if they were not



assuring her that her own charming room



was to her the pleasantest place



in the house.



F



65



a



on



to make





I



LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



66 "ONLY A

Mrs. Enfield often



there



chatted

listened
children,



Mrs.



ever



her



to her,
to the



with



Enfieli
rested



and



tales



such



would



on her,



eyes which



she



with



real



she would



brightness



wonder



and
had



if



first



memory of an old grief, was



if



the



amusement



tell to



and



fun,



the
till



sadness had
expression in



thought



not,



after



was the
all, their



nature.



" Miss Denbigh,"



she



said,



meeting



them



they came



friends to



in from



dinner



the



to-day,



garden.

will you



"We



mind



have



seeing



that the



children



are quiet, they are



to sit



an hour or so later,
disposed, so please
makes my husband



and



they may feel



keep a vatch o0
so angry to hear



riotously



1 them.



It



them when



he is



at dinner."



Miss



Denbigh promised to see after them, and



and



i



as



up



brought her work






" ONLY



A LITTLE PRIMROSE."



Margaret said



to her friend,



" Tell



us



one of



your lovely stories, Miss Denbigh.



" Perhaps-we shall



see if all the chicks are



good,-we will have some arrangements for this



extra hour



which



will,



I daresay,



be very satis-



factory."
And so seven o'clock, which had been a rather

dreaded hour, was looked forward to with great



anxiety



on this



night,



and after



tea Nurse



bathed their little hot



faces



and hands,



brought



Mary



and Emmy down to



the



school.



room



where



Margaret



and



Miss



Denbigh



awaited them.



" Come



along,"



said



Margaret,



" Miss



Den-



bigh is going to tell us a story to-night, and to-

morrow play games with us, and the next night a
story again, and so on,won't that be charming ?"

Yes, that it will," said the children, joyfully,



F2



67



and





"C ONLY



68



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



" and

her."



we are to



sit



one on



each.



"Oh !



no, Mary,



I am always to



am I not,



Miss



Denbigh ?



the children



must take turns,



must they not ?"



" I think if you sit



settle



it



very



in a little circle,



nicely,"



said



Miss



that will
Denbigh,



" Emmy,



as the least, in the middle."



" Oh!
" Now



yes, that's charming,"



you'll go



away to



be



said Margaret.



dressed



for



the



drawing-room,



middle
Mary.



of



the



MNargaret, just as we



lovely



part



of



the



are in the



story,"



said



" As there



is company



to-night,



neither Mar-



garet



nor I



be in the



are going



drawing-room



down.
until



They



will



Margaret's



not



bed-



time.



" Oh! jolly; do



begin



now,



Miss



Denbigh."



side



of



of



her,



be



one



side





"cc ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



And



settling themselves



governess had
pared to listen.



arranged,



comfortably
the little g



as their



rirls



pre-



"I promised," began



Miss



Denbigh,



Margaret



a sad episode



in



my life,



and



I .think



you little ones are



and take the



lesson



old



enough to



from it I would



hear
wish



it too,
you to



learn."



"You asked



her fair white



me, dear child," she said,



hand on



Margaret's head,



laying
"what



made me have for ever on my face a shadow of



sadness-because



Margaret, love,



that shadow is



born



of



self-reproach.



Sorrow comes to us



turn, sent us in love always, and



in time



learn



that,



but when the sorrow is brought



us by our own self-will or wrong-doing, then,



child, it remains with



ever.



us a bitter memory



my
for



The sorrow-God's chastening-passes, as



69



"to



tell



in



all



we



on





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE./



waves



of shadow



not injuring



pass over



the rich



the



ripe ears,



golden

only



wheat,

shading



them



His



for



smile,



a season.

like the



Borne



with



resignation,



returning sunshine,



lights



our hearts



again, and we know how tender was



the Hand that wounded us.



But when



our own



our own



perversity,



brings



on us a heavy



woe, no comfort comes to



help



us to bear



like the



canker



which



destroys



the



heart



of the



rose, so remorse eats



into



our hearts,"



the tears



and



welled



Margaret



up



in



taking



her



her



eyes as



hand



she spoke,

whispered



gently,-



" Don't tell us, if it



makes



you sad."



"No,



because

mine.'y



my love,



it



" When



may



I



I would



save



was very



you from



young,"



rather



tell



a sorrow



she



you,
like



continued,



70



folly,



and



it,





"C ONLY



"I lost



A LITTLE



my mother, and I



the country to



be



PRIMROSE.

was sent down



brought up by an aunt.



married



a gentleman



of land, and



who owned



managed one of the



a great
largest



farms himself-it was



a beautiful old place,



me was enchanting,



coming



from



a dark



street



in



the



City



where



we had always lived.



My father was a merchant,



and we lived



at his



house



of



business-he



was glad



to send



away



as I had



no



with-and I was, too,



brother or
glad to go



sister



to play



away from the



gloomy



in



the



house,
bright



and be



home



with



I had



my



often



little



heard



cousins



them



talk of.



"' There



were



two boys



and



two



girls,



eldest boy worked



on the



farm with his



father,



other



was in a merchant's



office



London.



The



girls



were



both



older



than



71

into
She



had

deal



to



and



me



and



the



the



in



me,





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



but



nice,



friends.



ness,



bright,
I had,



forgotten



kind girls,



with



and



a child's



my mother.



we were great



quick
I had



forgetful-



seen



but



little of her, and



the nurse was more associated



in my mind with tiny baby happy days, than she



poor



dear!-a kind handsome



face smiling



on me in



the morning,



and



bidding



SGod



bless



me!'
--and



at night, was almost



so,



with



my



all I knew of



good-hearted



her



affectionate



motherly aunt and uncle and the young cousins,



my life



was brighter



and



happier



than



ever been before.



All the fresh country amuse-



ments were so pleasant to me.



I ran out in



morning



the



cows



early



with



milked,



to



Lucy



search



and Dora,



for



eggs



hedges when



first litter



of



the hens



little



pigs,



laid
the



astray,



young



to



see the



puppies,



the



new stableman's



cat without



a tail,



which



72



was,



it



had



the



to
in



see
the



our





"c ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



yard-man



the

the



young



farm-yard



had



procured,



things which



made an



the little

increased



e calves,

the stock



excitement in our lives



and were chronicled as



little events.



And now,



I daresay, you will like to know what Dora and

Lucy were like ? "



" Oh!



books



yes,"



said



Mary,



when they say what



"I



age



always



like



the little



what



coloured



hair



they



have,



and all those sort of things."



"Well



first went



then,



Lucy the



to them,



eldest



sixteen,



girl



with



was, when



auburn



hair



merry



eyes,



and



a fair



pretty light



clear



fairy figure,



as a skylark's.



and a voice



Dora



bright



and



was fourteen, dark



as Lucy was



fair, so



that



they were often called



after



two



of



Walter



Scott's



heroines,



Minna



Brenda.



Dora was my favourite,



73



all

in



and



boys



are;



in



girls



I



and



blue



skin



and



a



and



she



was





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



so gentle

brown eyes



and



affectionate;



there was such



in



her soft



a depth



of



dark



tender-



and love,



and



she



was so unselfish



sweet-tempered.



I will



not say



Lucy, on



ill-tempered,



the contrary,



because



that



express



it;



but she



had an



unhappy knack



making



others



ill-tempered



without



least



appearing



cross



herself-an



irritating,



aggravating laugh which was most trying when



you were worried



and put out by any small cir-



cumstance, but those not intimately acquainted



with



Lucy thought



her



far



the



most



charming



of the two girls-



"And



the little



boys,"



said



Emmy,



" were



they nice little



boys ? "



Miss



Denbigh



sighed,



and



the old



shadow



passed over her face as she answered,-



" They



were not little boys,



dear,



they



were



74



ness



and



not



of



was,
does



in



the





" ONLY



A LITTLE



nearly young men-at



PRIMROSE."



least Donald was



75

twenty



Graham nearly nineteen.



.Mr.
A I l.T"



Maclntyre



was a widower



with



when



these two sons,



be their



playfellows



my



and



aunt



the two



after this



married



him



girls came



to



second marriage



-and



it



affection



was so pretty



the



half-sisters.

me when



felt



boys

They



I first



to



for their



seemed



came,



see the



pretty



almost



lest



warm

little



jealous



I should



of



wean



from



their



parents



the



love



they



wished



lavished



on the



two



girls,



but



they



soon



grew



equally fond



of me-"



"And



you



were,



how



old,



dear ? "



Margaret, gently.



" I was



twelve about a



month or



two after



reached



and



I



'White Posts'

can remember



as the



how



farm



we



was called,



spent



that



birthday."



and



said



I





"C ONLY



20th



A LITTLE



of



August,



PRIMROSE."



is



it



not ? "



said



Margaret.



"c Yes,



love,



it was a fine glorious



summer's



day,
have



and



auntie



some



said



thoroughly



the little Londoner must



country



amusements,



so they



said



we should



take



our dinner



down in the



green meadow where a group



trees



would



give us



beautiful



shade



from



that Daisy, our



favourite cow,



should



be tethered



there for



us to make syllabub which



I had then never tasted."



it nice,"



said



Emmy,



"C we



it once."



"Don't interrupt,"
" Well, we went off.



said Mary, impatiently.
The moment we had had



our breakfast we



for our start,



began



and oh!



to



make preparations



how we laughed-collect-



ing wine-glasses without stems-and old plates



76



"The



and



sun,



and



of



the



and



had



" Ah!



isn't





ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



and all things which we



should not



fear



to lose



or break

happy-I



many



herself,



at our rural



have



a pic-nicl



" but



tasted



said



never



feast-ah !



we were



syllabub since-been



Miss



has there



Denbigh,



been



half

since



much joy, such pure happiness as then.
"Donald was the one who worked in



London.



He had never a taste for country life-Donald;



wished always to



be great in some way;



it had



been



his



dream



always-but



his



father



' Go and work, you can be great in any position,



if you will; the



best sort of greatness,



the



strict



fulfilment



of the duties



of



the



state



of life



which you are placed, that is great,



and requires



often greater
or storm a



courage



wall;



than



it is



in



to mount a



the



Battle



breach,



of



Life



grandest honours



are won,



and to those



warriors will the



brightest crown be given.'



"(C



77



so
to
to



so



he



said,



in



the






"C ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



"I have



heard



him



say



that



often



to him,



and Donald's large



earnest eyes would



fill



with



a strange
position I



light



as he



am placed



in,



answered,



I would



SWhatever



like



to be



at



the top of the tree,' He was so much in earnest-
Donald-always.



" He came home



a week



with



was then;



us,



and



every Christmas,



and



oh! how merry the



he was so good, and yet so full



stayed

house

of fun.



He brought us all presents whenever he



and never forgot



Sthe



little



town



mouse,



came,
as he



called



me ;



they



those-never so



were



bright



bright



since-never,"



Christmases,



she said,



sadly.



have



merry



Christmases,



don't



dear,"



said Margaret,



"you are



happy then



"Oh!



yes, Margery, love, very;



happier



than



I ever thought to



be;



but I must go



on with my



78



"We



we,





"cc ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



story, or I shall have Jane coming to carry away



part



of my audience.



" My



even.



education



in that



was carefully



country home,



watch



and being



Ihed over

naturally



quick I made good progress under the care



of



a



widow lady, whom my aunt engaged to instruct



me, and who stayed with



us until



I was



fifteen,



and

keep



then



aunt



thought



that I



could read



up my German and my French



with



cousins, and did not longer require a governess.



Lucy was very clever, but our readings



together



were



productive,



I am sorry to say,



of



many



disputes,



lost



she



my temper,



delighted in puzzling



and



then she



me until I



would laugh



little



aggravating laugh that made



a



me still more



angry,



and



say,



cross we must



' My dear



put the



little



books away.'



rl, if you get

I ought to



have laughed too, had I been wise, and not given



79



and



"my





"' ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.*



to the



foolish



irritability which



made



delight in aggravating



me; and anyone looking



on would have certainly condemned me, not her,



looked



so bright and pretty,



and seemed



whilst



I looked gloomy



cross, and could not laugh at what seemed to me
only ill-natured.
"After Ihad been five years at 'White Posts,'



Donald came home, having



left



his



situation in



the office where he had



been



so long to take



much



higher



position



in a mercantile



house



abroad.



It was a treat they all said



to have



him home, he was to be a month with us.



his



How



bright, sunny laugh rang through the house;



oftentimes



early



spring,



I think I



and we



can hear it now.



used



to



go-we



It was
four--



gathering



primroses,



violets,



and anemones.



love them still,



but



they make me sad with the



80



way



her



she



only



full



of



fun,



and



a



I





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



memory of
home laden



that
with



time,



the



how we used to come



blossoms,



Donald would



dress



my hair with



them,



and



twine



them with



shining



leaves



of the



Bryony



round



"Many a time



among the green lanes there as



we rambled,
discussions,



Lucy and I



had



which Donald



our little



tried



to



angry



stop,



or



mediate between us.



He



saw that



Lucy was



aggravating,



and



tried



to



reason



with



her;



after



all, his



favourite



sister



knew.



" Three



days



before



he left,



Lucy had



been



most



aggravating, and



I had



felt so cross and



irritable,



and he



had been so



gentle-he



loved



her so-and tried to make me



hler love of fun, that



she



did



think it was



only



not wish to anger



me.



81



the
hat.



my



but



she



was,



I





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



" It was the night before he



left, we were



sitting in the



large



parlour, we would not light



candles,



a small



wood



fire



burnt



in the



grate, for the evenings in that



early spring



time



were still chilly.



The young crescent moon had



risen



in



the



sky,



in



which



the



daylight



lingered,



and one



small



bright



star seemed like



a handmaid



waiting on her.



I



see it all



plainly



as I



saw it



then.



Lucy



had



been



some time



throwing



little balls



of



paper at me,



and several times I had asked



her



not



to do so,



that it worried
in no mood for



all my
0



me-I wished to be quiet,



fun that



remonstrance,



she



night;



but,



continued



I was



unheeding
tormenting



the pellets



really struck



sharply enough



hurt,



and



at length



one hit



me more



fiercely



than any, for I had ceased to



remonstrate



with



seemed,



determined I should



82



the



ald



still



as



for



me:



to



her,



and



she



feel






"c ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



time.



Donald



was



sitting



with



round her, he

last evening.



did love Lucy so,



and it was the



I told myself how natural it was



that he



should



thus



give
b



all the last



precious



moments to the



favourite sister, but somehow I



fear it helped



to anger me; as the last



pellet



struck



and



hurt



me,



and I cried



out,



laughed that nasty jeering laugh I hated,



sh&re



and



I



seized a



small



marble weight upon the



table



near me, and threw it at her:



it struck him, not



her, for he flung himself before her; he picked it



up quietly and put it back on the



no cry, though a lump



table, uttered



was on his forehead



where it struck him,



but



he



said



gently



though
0-



severely,



" 'I could



not have



thought



spite



sion would take up



their



abode



in



so fair



mansion:



good-night,



good-by,



Helena,'



G2



this



83



his



arm



and



pas-



a



and





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



putting his arm round Lucy's neck, he whispered



something
together.



to



her, and



they



left the



room



He was
morning, an



to leave



by an early train



d I lay awake



through the



the



next



hours



of



night,



wondering



if



he



meant



' good-by'



that



we were



to meet



no more.



Angry with Lucy, whom I



felt was



the cause



angry



with



myself



for my



shameful



display



of



temper, my mental



suffering



I could



not describe:



the



night seemed



endless,



soon as it was light



I



rose and dressed,



deter-



mined



and
the



to



tell



large



see Donald



him



I



parlour,



and wish



was sorry.



it



I



him
went



was so early



Sgood-by'



down



even



servants were not down.



I opened



the shutters



myself



and



looked out



into



the



old-fashioned



garden, with its turf paths and



velvet lawn,



84



the



by



that



this,



and



of



and



as



into
the



and





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



the apple



among



trees



which



and flew busily



laden with



their



pink



the birds chirped and



in and out; at length



blossoms,

twittered,

a footstep



down the old oak staircase, was it Donald?



only the servant,



who stared



to see me about



early,



but



asked



me if I



was going



Mr. Donald



off,



she was



just



going



to call the



young ladies.



I don't know how



long I waited,



they



all



came



down



at last, and he



" 'I



did



not expect



to



see you,



Helena,



early,



thank



you :



you



are come



to



see the



last of the



traveller,



and



wish



him



' God



speed.'"



"What



possessed me-what



evil spirit made



me say,-



"' Oh,



dear me !



pray do not flatter yourself;



I mistook



the



time.



I am going back
0o 0



to take



85



No,



so



to



see



but



said,--



so





"" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



another



hour' s



up the broad



sleep.'



staircase,



And

into



so



my



I went



room,



flying



and



I



locked



the



door,



haunted like



mad-



ness by that



laugh of Lucy's,



which I



heard



upstairs.



I have



never



since,



Margaret,"



she



said,



addressing



herself



to the



eldest



girl.



"I left



very



soon



after



he



was gone.



wretched,



and



Somehow



Lucy



the



I could



house



not bear



seemed

to look



so I said



living,



I would



and then I



like to



became



earn



a gover-



ness."



" And



up;



now to bed, darlings," she said,



"and



suffereth



take



long,



endureth all

nothing worth.



with



and



is



things,



lesson,



kind, beareth all

and without it



you



this



jumping

Charity



things,

we are



86



shut



and



I



flew



as



seen



him



at;

my



and



own





" ONLY



A LITTLE



Wonderingly the



PRIMROSE.")



little girls looked



87



at her as



she kissed them with passionate fervour and sent



them



away.



And



then



turning



to Margaret,



she said,-



" You are never



you



are so gentle



like

and



to suffer as I
forbearing.



have,

You



dear,

often



remind me of Dora."

And have you never heard of them at all? "

said Margaret.



" Oh,



yes !



I frequently



have



letters,



often press



cannot,



me to go



Margaret.



and see them;



Donald,"



she said



a tremulous



voice,



"Dora



says,



was coming



home



to



see them,



but he did



not



come,



and they



haps,



is



and read;



have not

dead.

I shall



heard since,



Get

be



your
with



so he,



per-



book, darling,

you again pre-



sently."



they



I



and



but

in





"C ONLY



88



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.M



And



she



went



away



a little



while,



when



came



back her



face was



still



and



calm



ever.



A few days passed after this,

played and more stories told, bri



and



games were



fighter and gayer,



suiting better the little ones,



but Margaret



liked



"real one," as



she called



it,



the



best,



thought



much



about



it,



wondering if "Donald,



became



a sort



of



hero



to her,



really



dead,



and



if



dear



Miss



Denbigh



would



ever see him again."

Many a romance



girlish fancy,



she



and tried to



"wove



lay the



about



it



lesson



heart



and



speak



no hasty



words



of



anger



those she loved.



And



autumn,



the hot summer



and



then the



passed
family



and



at



changed



Afton



to



Lodge



went



for their usual trip



to the sea,



and



Miss



she



as



the



who



now



and



was



in

to



her

her



to





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



Denbigh



left



to



pay



some



visits



amongst
Z3



father's friends.



What



a packing



up



it was;



how busy baby



was putting into nurse's



box, with that triumph-



ant dere,"



everything



he could find



about



room, so that poor nurse



had to disembarrass her



trunk



of



the



hearth broom,



horse without a head,



several



the



large



bricks,



e wooden

an empty



pomade-pot,



and Minnie's



poor



blind baby doll,



out of which he himself



had poked the eyes and



brought to the distressed mother to exhibit
handywork, crowing with glee, and assuring



he was

priding



nurse,



"Kever

himself



for



sweet



boy."

on the



baby



Now, of



great



nature



course, he was



help
has



he



was o
w as uio



an innocent



belief that the will to help



is



as good



as the



deed.

They were to start immediately after an early



her



the



his

her





" ONLY



dinner,



and



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



even though nurse and Mrs.



Enfield



had tried to



think of everything, what an infinite



number



how



of



nurse



" forgets "



poked



into her pockets,



they



them.



till



there



all



were



as far



the turning out



reached the lodgings, was



at the last,
as possible



of it,



a source



when
of the



greatest
jumble.



amusement,



A



it



shoeing-horn,



was such



a corkscrew,



a curious



and



a



button-hook, being mingled with doll's frocks and
odd socks, and several small treasures of baby's,



which



he



bringing.



had
And



tyrannically



on the



sands,



insisted



on her



amongst



the



loungers, and the bathers, and the sellers of shells



pebble



brooches, crochet



collars



and night-



caps,



the



children



dug



and built



castles



with



martello



towers of sand, made by squeezing into



the little pails and



turning it out like jelly from



a mould,



and



deep



trenches,



into



which



90



and



the






"CO ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



water

walls,



ran, andc m

bigger boys



ade a moat round the



coming to inspect



the



castle

work,



and offering suggestions,



going paddling into the



water to fetch

a garden for 1



innocent



bright



pieces of seaweed to make



the little girls, with



friendliness,



needing no



that childish

introduction



before



friends,



they



that



speak,



and becoming



one wonders



who



at last

Jessie



such

and



Tommy, and Johny, Lucy, and



Walter are, whom



our children



are calling
0



to,



or talking



familiarly.



Ah! happy little



architects,



your



castles



like those we



build in



later years,



washed



by the waves of Time as ruthlessly as



by the tide



that destroyed yours, only to you the destruction



was no sorrow,



it



was only the



fun of



building



them



"up



again.
0 ran



And



there,



by the



" sad.



waves,"



the children played



and



gained



health



91



of



so



are



over



sea





" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



and

they



brown



skins,



were to lose



and went home



to



learn



" dear Miss Denbigh."



letter awaited mamma to say that she could



only
why



stay one quarter



more, she would



tell her



when she came back.



Margaret,



indeed



they



all,



were



so sorry,



and were eager to know why she must go.



It was soon told-she was going

The evening after she returned,



to be married.



sitting
15



school-room



between



"the



dark



and



the day-



light," she said, with a soft sweet



" Margaret,



smile,-



Donald has forgiven me."



"Donald



is



not dead ?"



exclaimed Margaret,



joyfully.



"No,



he has come home.



I got a



letter soon



after



I left



you from Dora,



see,



here



she handed it to Margaret.



" Helena,



come



to



us at



once,



please



92



A



that



in



the



it



is,"



and



do,






" ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE.



there
you.



is some



I



am not



one here



to say who,



who



but



wants



he



to



sends



this ."
So the letter ran.



"It was only



she said;

directly.



meet



"but I
Donald



me with



a little



primrose,



knew who sent it,
was there; he c



the old



kindly light



Margaret,"
and I went
,ame out to
in his eyes,



browned,



but little altered.



And he said-fancy



all these years how my foolish words must have



pained him, that
said, 'You have



Helena ?'



he



so remembered



had that



and



woke



them-he



hour's sleep out now,
to a keen sense of my



folly.



Margaret, he



is



to be my husband when



I leave you."



" Oh!



dear



niss



Denbigh,



I



am so glad, so



glad,"



said



tender-hearted



Margaret,



half-in-



dined to cry for joy and sympathy.



93



see
you



Yes,





"c ONLY

"- Yes, dear,



A LITTLE

I knew you



PRIMROSE."



would



be;



and



forget



me,



nor the



lesson I have



taught



you,



the



grave



importance



of



' words.'



All



through



plentiful



Holy



to keep



Writ,



the



warnings



our tongues with a



bridle,



use 'pleasant



words,'



soft



words,



by



them



we are to



be



condemned



or justified,



judged



sure,



for



are



'idle

such



ones.'



as,



Amongst



without



those,



thought,



I am



are



spoken



to wound



lance, which



or hurt,



a moment's



those uttered in



reflection



would



petu-

have



stopped."



"4 Poor



Donald!



many



and many



a time in



his long

I tossed



exile,



"in sport



he says,



the little primrose which



to him on that happy day we



both



so well



remembered,



spoke



to him,



seemed,

until he



pleadingly



for



sent it to me.



me.



It



never



left



him



"We do not know what



will



not



ever



you



are

to



and



it






"cc ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



little



may



things

spring



may

from



influence



some



us.



mere



A



great event



trifle, and



"my



happiness,"

been secured



she



said,



with



a glad smile,



" has



by



ONLY



A LITTLE



PRIMROSE."



95



**








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