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THE GIRLS’ COMPANION.
A
MAY 8, 1909.
has'bc-en-you with your glorious seventeen
years.“ ' ‘
Gloria's face softened. "No; one can-
. But anything seems-pos-
sible after all that has happened tceday."
t was while Gloria‘ was standing on
her own steps, having watched the District
Nurse close her door, that she caught
sight of a little figure flying up the street.
It was Dinney. She waited impatiently
for his approach. ‘
“ I've got it, Miss Gloria!” he said, com-
ing panting up the steps. “I've got it!
I struck the very man and he told me. lie
wrote it down for me. It belongs to an
estate, Here it is."
Gloria looked down at the card that
what her eyes’ met caused the color to
drift from ’her face. .
“ Are you sure, Dinney?” she said sharp-
ly to the boy. "Are you sure! Quick!" A
fuintncss was seizing her.
“Surc," answered the boy. ,
The girl laid a trembling hand upon‘the
door. “ I will get the money for you.
"Dinney, when I know you are dead right."
The voice was not the voice Dinney knew.
Looking at the girl, he saw that tears had
sprung to her eyes. She was fumbling
blindly with the latch key. .
“Miss Gloria," he said, in an awed
voice, as he took the key and fitted it for
her, “don't you go to feeling like that.”
Suddenly he was a man in his protective
earnestness. “ It ain't nothin’ to you."
But Gloria had passed him and was al-
ready ascending the broad flight of stairs
leading from the reception hall. he had
forgotten her key, she had forgotten to
close the door. Dinney thoughtfully took
the key out and placed it on a stand near.
Then closing the door afterhim, he went
slowly down the steps.
Somehow the brightness had gone from
the day-he knew not why. But it was
IIe turned toward Pleasant Street
" Trcelcss Street "-but ‘“ there
was no whistle now upon his lips. ,
To be continued.) .
coucnakmo srznns.
Very often the girl who announces her in-
tention of starting a gardcn,is at once made
the recipient of kindly offers on the part of
obliging frlnnds, who have boxes of seeds put
away in the store-room, ‘I ey gen-
erously suggest sharing with her. Or per-
haps her attention is attracted by some ad-
vertisement which offers a surprising variety
of seeds for a very small ‘sum. at it
well to think twice before accepting your
friend": offer, or investing in the packages
which the advertisement describes in such
glowing terms.‘ '
if you are going to have a gardcn,at all,
have good seed, the best you can get. And
that is not likely to be found in the pack-
ages on your friend's shelves, The seed
ripened in an ordinary flower garden tends
to deteriorate every year. Plants raised
from the second year‘: seed will be inferior
to that of the first year. And the third
ycar‘s crop will be inferior to that of the
second. 01 course there are ways known to
experts of avoiding this, but few amateurs
' will take the pains required.
if you are planning to start a garden this
spring, go to the best seedsman in town and
buy your plants and seeds of hll1).- Good seed
is really cheaper than the inferior sort, re-
gardless of the difference in the quality of
the plants produced, for so many of the
poorer seeds never germinate at all that it
more than makes up for the original din‘er-
(-ncc in price. >
' Perhaps some of you have told yourselves
that you will buy your seeds this year, but
the next you will use what you have raised
yourself. it is a question whether this is
the wisest course. A plant cannot blossom
and ripen seed at the same time. you
wish your plant to produce need, you should
pluck off all the blossoms but a few of the
nnest, and allow the whole energy of the
plant to go into the development of these.
it is a matter of common observation that
if the flowers from the sweet pea vines or n
pansy bed are not kept picked, the blossoms
will soon become fewer in number, and in-
ferior in size. The plant having accom-
plished its‘ohJect in life, by maturing seed,
stops blossoming. But since your aim in
having a garden is,to have as many flowers
as possible, and to have them as long as pos-
sible, it is foolish to frustrate this object
merely for the sake of saving a very little
money by ripening your own seed.
DRUSILLA DUNN’S
MEMORY BOOK
' By Mule Deacon llnnson
Drusilla Dunn walked iingeringly down
the country lane lined with silver-leaf
poplars and thought she never had seen
them as lovely as they were in the after-
noon sunshine; the leaves rustled gently
in the soft southern breeze and were full
of shimmering beauty. Drusilla’s admira-
tion, however, was tinged with regret born
of the knowledge that to-day she gazed her
last upon them, perhaps for months.
In her hand the girl carried a small book
bound in morocco and fustcne with a
brass clasp. The book had a history.
That morning, while hunting in the store
roorn'for a piece of material to make a
doll‘s dress for little Alice next door.
Drusilla had come upon the book in the
bottom of an old chest. Its quaint ap
pearance had at once attracted her atten-
tion. . She opened it and read on the dy-
leaf:
"Drusilla Dunn. Memory Boo . ”
“‘ Why, it must have ‘belonged to Aunt
Drusilla for whom I was named!” Drusilla
had exclaimed aloud; that she immediately
carried the book to her grandmother.
Grandmother Dunn took it with a gentle,
reverent touch. “Yes, it'was your Aunt
Drusilia’s," she had said. “She was just
about your age when your grandfather
brought it to her from New ork.
used to write in it every,day, but she didn't
live long enough to fill many pages.”
“ I’d love to road-" Drusilla had begun
eagerly, then stopped short, a flush stain-
ing her cheeks. Of cours.: she must not
seek to pry into the other ‘ Drusilla‘s
secrets. Ilut grandmother had urged:
“Yes, look into it, deary. My Drusilla
always had such beautiful thoughts, and
maybe you'll find something worth while
in her book."
And now, Drusilla was on her way to a
sequestered nook near the river, there to
turn the pages of the Memory Book ; and as
she left the lane and struck across the
meadow she thought tenderly of her fa-
ther's only sister who had died so young.
Her favorite spot reached, Drusilla sank
down at the foot of a tree, and, tossing her
hat on the ground, leaned her head against
the frunkaritl gazed on the river flowing
swiftly and silently past. Ilow peaceful
and beautiful were her surroundings and
how she had grown to love them in the
short time she had known them! But yet,
how eager she‘ was to leave the country
scenes! llntiire-
cently, Drusilla had
lived with her broth-
er in a Western
state, keeping house
for him. Upon his
marriage, she had -
left the home of her
girlhood, first to pay
a visit to her Grand-
mother Dunn, whom
she had not seen for
she
study art. Drusilla
Was very capable
and self-reliant, and
when a cousin on
mother's side
offered her room and board at a rea-
sonable price she felt, the greatest dif-
ficulty was cleared from her path in strik-
ing out for the new life she had planned
to live in New York
“But there is another difficulty,"
Drusilla mused, as she let the Memory Book
rest idly in her lap. “And.that is Grand-
mother Dunn. Until I came, she was quite
content to live alone in her‘pretty cottage
with her dog and chickens and garden, but
I can see she wants to keep me with er.
And I quite lmtlerstand what the minister
meant yesterday when he advised my study-,
No. ,
ing under Mrs. Ilrnscom for a year.
' welcome.
"BUT 'rnnkn’s asornnn nil-‘r'lcl:t.'rt."
indeed, I couldn’t do that, after all my
planning! Life will ',.- so much freer and
fuller in New York, and the advantages so
much greater. Grandmother Dunn may
miss me for a time, but she'll soon fall back
into the‘old life again.“
Having thus decided, Drusilla shock a
black bug off her skirt and, opening the
Memory Book, read with reverent eyes the
first line traced in delicate girlish hand-
writing:
“’-Tis
th
And then, farther down the age: '
“ On this eventful day when I make this
first entry in my dear Memory Book
which is to help me to remember, I want
most of all to remember this: there are
so many to make happy in this world that
I must take care not to miss the one
whom I may have been sent to cheer and
help-”
Drusilla read no further just then.
Instead, she looked oil‘ at the river, think-
ing how strangely these words of her aunt
ore upon the question she thought she
had just settled. That it was not settled
was evident from the troubled feeling
which again possessed Drusilla as she
thought of her grandmother. A long time she
sat there, then at last read on. IIow sweet;
and loving and unselfish had been this
young aunt of hers! Drusilla felt it in
every line she read, and once, unbidden,
the tears rushed to“ her‘:-yes. At length
she came to the last linc, and when she
had finished she sat very quiet. Presently
loving and serving that brine‘ us
s
e.hest."
-she arose and, pinning on her hat. re-
traced her steps ‘across the meadow. iVhen
she came to the silver-leaf poplars she
looked up lovingly.
“I am not going to leave you.” she said
e with a smile, as for an old friend.
Drusilla never forgot the beautiful light
that flashed into her grandmother's eyes
when she heard of the girl's decision to
make her home with her and study under
Mrs. Ilrascom. It was a comfort to recall
'. not quite a year later, when Drusilla
was free to go to New York if she wished,
and Grandmother Dunn had gone to meet
her own Drusilla.
1...?
“AS THE FLOWERS IN HAY."
“As welcome as the flowers in May," is
as emphatic a way of stating appreciation
as one can well think of. But the familiar
saying gathers fresh force when we stop to
reflect why it is that May's flowers, are so
is it not because they come when
we are weary of snow and storm and stretches
of frozen earth? The first green blades of
grass that shiver in ihe chill spring winds,
please our eyes more than lhe.n'Iost perfectly-
kept lawn on which the summer sun looks
down. All the roses of June cannot thrill us
like the drst violet of the season. And
girls could realize how practical this prin-
ciple is. you could, without any extra effort,
more than double the cirectlveuess of the
you do for
a
:
others.
You have a gift for
conversation.’ perhaps.
You have the knack
of stating
placc things in a way
that makes them full
of interest. You know
how to tell a story
with Just that touch
of pathos or of‘ fun
that goes straight to
the hearts of your lis-
teners. But where do
you choose to let this
light shine? Why a
social gatherings, at
the homes of your
friends. where there
are others as gifted
as yourself? Did you
ever think of using
‘our powers of enter-
tainment for the benefit of that old lady
across the way, whose principal interest in
life is speculating on the doings of her neigh-
h in what spot of earth could your
cheerful talk be more welcome than in that
sick-room where the tedious days come and. go,
one so like another? ' ‘
The long, newsy letter you wrote last week
was to a friend whose life is so full of inter-
ests that she shakes her head over mlsslves
like yours, and wonders how she will ever
find time to answer them. But how welcome
such a letter would have been to that other
friend of yours who is teaching a country
school, who is far from home and has not
found congenial surroundings. who feels
homesick and solitary!
n
uMI)ll)‘ll Aim
if we could learn to go where we are
needed, to carry our smiles into the shadowed
places, we and all we have to give would be
as welcome as the sunshine at the close of n
dreary day, or as the dowers in May when
winter's reign is over.
mm?
AN INSPIRATION 08 AN EXCUSE.
We make the springtime an excuse. some-
times, when we should find it an inspiration.
We fancy that the breezes summon us to
dreamy enjoyment, that nature is wrapped
in luxurious ease. And if the necessity for
work presses hard upon us, we feel injured
and defrauded.
ul: if we look again over the beautiful,
blossoming world as the spring days go by,
we shall realize that we have been mistaken.
We shall have to visit the (ircal American
Desert before we and a square inch of earth
that is not an embodied protest against
inactivity. Since Febi-nary t‘be sunshine has
done a work which makes man's big achieve-
ments seem child‘s play. Every clnd is strain-
ing all its powers to bring forth something
beautiful. Every tiny shoot, with fragile
stem and big, awkward seed-leaves, is strug-
gling to make itself worthy of the spring-
time. Birds and bees, hurrying streams, the
trees whose young leaves are startlng,allthe
multltudiaous forms of life in soil on air
and water, are joining hands for a “long
pull, a strong pull, and a pull all together."
The best of it is that the work is so hap-
pily done. The air is full of fragrance and
song and sunshine. In all the rush of nature's
busy season we find no grumbling workers
till we come to ourselves. Overhead the
Orioles and bluebirds are singing, and in the
grass underfoot countless busy, happy crea-
tures make music in their own ua .
The springtime is not an excuse for lazi-
ness, but something is wrong with us If we
do not find it an inspiration to do our best.
To assist you in farming correct ideas of how
the body should be clotndd.
THE ADVANTAGE OFVSIMPLICITY.
nv aucn LORRAINE unions.
The girl who must drtss-on: ur limited
allowance,--and the average girl working for
her own living finds herself in this position-
must make up her mind in the in-ginning that
she is face to face with conditions which the
girl with plenty of money does not have to
consider. In matter of following the
fashions, it makes a difference whether one
cnn lay aside the suit or gown or hat that
has ceased to be “ in style," or whether econ-
omy demands thnt it still be worn, even
though it is woefully out of date.
For this reason, the girl of limited means
will do well to indulge in extreme
fashions, no matter how great the tempta-
tion. Extremes seldom stay long in style.
and when oncc out, are doubly conspicuous.
For this reason, the yr] who cannot pass a
garment on at the end of a season, will get
better value for her money from one that is
of good material and well made, but not in
the height of the fashion, and, what is quite
as important, she will look really better
dressed. 7"
The same is true in choosing simple styles.
There are seasons when everything is club-.
orate-when fashion demands a great amount
of trimming on hats, suits, and dresses. ilut.
no matter how much elaboration there may
he, the plain tailored suit, the simple walking
hat, always hold their own, and are recog-
nized as being In perfect taste in their proper
place. The girl who must keep her clothes
over to wear through a second season, or pos-
sibly a third, will feel herself loss conspicu-
ous, less out of date, if she has lict-rr wise
enough to choose something that is not over-
elaborate, something that has the in-nuty of
simplicity to recommend it.
any girls who are working for ll living re-
sent with a foolish pride any stuggestlon that
a certain garment is not sullxlbic for them,
seeming to feel that if they can pay for the
dress or hat which they admire, that is the
only question to be considered. if a girl is
earning a good salary, which she is free to
spend as she wishes, and has many social en
gagements which require that she be dalntlly-
gowned, she is justified in providing herself
with clothes suitable tame conditions of her
life. But the clothes which would be entirely
fitted for such a girl, would not necessarily be
suitable for her neighbor whose evening
amusements are of a very quiet sort, and the
latter should be willing to recognize the fact.
The simple wardrobe may be as attractive in
materials, in tints, in workmanship, as the
elaborate one, and may gain for its owner the
distinction of being suitably dressed, which
is one of the prime essentials of good dress-
ing, where the latter would lay her open to
the charge of being overdI‘esscd, which is al-
ways a reflection upon one‘s good taste
-rile.
