Flower of the Dusk

s M

terious workings of an untoward Fate. She was not really "Miss," since she had been married and widowed, and a grown son was waiting impatiently

d M

half an hour, duly sanctioned by Church and State. A woman who remains unmarried, because, with fine courage, she will have her true mate or none, is called "an old maid." She may ha

rie

ave left no trace upon his mother. The uttermost depths of life had been hers for the sounding, but Miss Mattie

artyr, and clucked sharply with her false t

marked with it. I could set here and set here and set here, and he took no more notice of me than if I was a piece of furniture. When he died, the brethren and sistern

me to, Mother," answered Roger,

that it's in the blood and you can't help it. If I'd known it was your pa's intention to give himself up so exclusive t

lay face downward upon the ta

the births of the eternal. Friendship demands a religious treatme

ay of Putt

in a shrill voice,

could explain i

never know what you're readin' about. Diamonds growin' and births bein' hurried up, and friends bein' religious and vo

ur own peculiar way of putting things, Mothe

n't last more'n fifteen minutes, and then see readin' goin' on till long past bedtime, and

esn't

ause the canned raspberries can lay

's Personal

it and her grey eyes were sharp and penetrating. Her smooth, pale brown hair, which did not show the grey in it, was parted precisely in the middle. Every morning she brushed it violently with a stiff brush dipped i

she put on shoes, corsets, her best black silk, and her gold-bowed spectacles, she took great pains to wear them properly. When she reached home, however, she always took off her fine raiment an

-hand

ooks you and your pa has always set such store by. Where he ever got 'em, I dunno, but they was always a comin'. Lots of 'em w

ed off, and the rest of it was perfectly good. When you need a coffin plate you need it awful bad. While your pa was rampin' around, he said he wouldn't have been surprised t

he postmaster's wife was a-showin' me some papers they get, every week. One is The Metropolitan Weekly,

ter's wife was readin' one of the stories and settin' up nights to do it, so she wa'n't to blame for not lettin' 'e

ctor's

t who has to do most of the housework for a family of eight, and the way they abuse that child is something awful. The young

for the first time. As she goes upstairs, Arthur Montmorency-that's his name-holds both hands to his heart and says, 'She and she only shall

, "why don't you subscrib

s. I never thought of that myself and I dunno how you come to. I'll do it the very first time I go down to the store. The postmaster's wife can get the addresses without tearin' off the

upper in peace. Afterward, while she was clearing up, he even dared to take up th

ish M

see the library upstairs, which was still the same, and the grave, silent, kindly man who sat dreaming over his books. When the child entered

, rich voice, vibrant with ten

iceles

riminating, yet catholic, taste. The books had been used and were not, as so often happens, merely ornaments. Page after page had been interlined and th

and took up another. Always there were pictures and sometimes many of them, for in his later years Laurence Austin had contracted the banefu

the medium of the marginal notes. He wondered, sometimes, that a pencil mark should so long outlive the fine, strong body of the man who m

rlour, which was opened only on Sunday-was hideous with a gaudy carpet, stuffed chairs, family portraits done in crayon and inflicted upon th

arrel. She had spoiled a good barrel to make a bad chair, but her thrifty soul rejoiced in her achievement. Roger

wful

ed his mother and appreciated her good qualities, but he saw the awful ch

r Au

gruous, beauty-loving mouth. He had, too, the lovable boyishness, which never quite leaves some fortunate men. He was studying law in the judge's office, and hoped by another year

ding upon them? Why insist upon rash personal relations with your friend? Why go to his house, and know his mother and brother and sis

Miss Mattie, "and you don't h

ther. I did not hear y

hose papers would be too expensiv

we have to." Dimly, in the future, Roger saw long, quiet evenings in which his disturbing inf

rnin

rning to ask for some book. I disremember no

't you tell me sooner, Mother?" He spoke with eviden

m can come after it any time. They ain't got no business to let a bl

e knew this place before he was blind,

orning. 'A blind old man like you,' says I, 'ain't got no business chasin' around

ical hurt. "Mother!" he cried.

nd he certainly can't think he's young, so what harm does it do to spea

, Mother," he answered, not unkindly, "assume that their opinions are of great importance to people who probably do not

take the risk of hurtin' himself by runnin' around alone. I don't kno

rous

arried?" asked Roger, steering quickly away from the dangerous

hree mon

st wanted

ftened, and, taking off her spectacles, she gazed far into space; seemingly to that dis

t it," said R

lutestring ribbon. I can smell the clover now and hear the bees hummin' when the windows was open in Summer. A bee com

t No

r a pause. "Just before we was married, he sai