Crimson roses

by Grace Livingston Hill

  gravely, " Not yet, thank you," and went on with his investigation. He seemed to be interested in the articles in the display-case below the counter, and after watching him amusedly for a minute the two salesgirls retired to a distance to comment upon him.

  It happened that during the winter Marion had developed quite a talent for making ribbon flowers and tying bows. During the last three weeks she had been promoted regularly to the little counter where a line of people stood endlessly all day long with anxious, hurried looks, and bolts of ribbon to be tied for '* Mary's lingerie," or " a little girl's sash," or " my daughter's graduating-dress," or " a young woman's headdress," or '' rosettes for the baby's bonnet."

  Marion liked it. Especially she liked the forming of the satin flowers. It was next to working among the flowers themselves to touch the bright petals and form them into shape around the tiny stamens. She was peculiarly successful with ribbon roses, and almost every day had several orders for them for corsage or shoulder.

  This afternoon she was sitting as usual before her bit of counter, scissors at her side, spools of wire and bunches of centres close at hand, and a stack of rainbow ribbons in front of her.

  The young man gradually progressed down the

  length of the ribbon-counter till he came to where the bows were being tied; and there he stood a little to one side, watching with absorbed interest as the skilful fingers finished the lovely knots and rosettes and buds.

  The counter was busy now, and there was a line of anxious mothers and hurried shoppers waiting to get ribbons made up. The young man watched and waited awhile, and finally, to the immense amusement of the girls at the main counter who had been watching him, he edged up to Marion and spoke to her.

  " Are you too busy to select the right ribbon for me and make a rose the color of the one you are wearing? I can wait until you are at liberty if you. think you can do it."

  Marion looked up. She had not noticed him before, and something in his eyes reminded her of the man at the symphony concerts; but she had never seen that man clearly, save one brief glance. Of course it could not be he. But she answered graciously:

  " Certainly, I think I can find that color for you if you can wait till I finish these flowers. A customer is waiting for them."

  He bowed and stepped back out of the w^ay, watching the passing throng and waiting until she

  came to him with the ribbon, matching it to the rose upon her breast. His face lit up with a puzzled kind of relief.

  " That looks exactly like it," he said.

  " You want a single rose? " she asked, her sweet eyes looking directly at him in that pleasant way she had with all her customers, as if they were her friends. " Is it for the shoulder? "

  " Why, yes," said he, a little puzzled. " I don't know how it should be. Make it like some of those in the case. Make it just as you would like to have it." He smiled helplessly, and she answered his appeal with another smile, distant and delicate as a passing bird's might be.

  " I understand," she said brightly; " I'll make it pretty "; and she went at the lovely task, deftly measuring and twisting the ribbon into what seemed like a living, breathing rose, and then another tiny bud by its side with a stem and a bit of green leaf. Then she held it out to him. Did that suit him? He said that it did, entirely; and his eyes showed plainly that he spoke the truth.

  "How would you—^put it on?" he asked hesitatingly, and the girls at the other end of the counter beat a hasty retreat behind the cash-desk to laugh.

  " O, what d' ye think o' that? " cried one.

  " The dear innocent; is he goin' to wear it him-

  self, or will he stick it on for her? " asked the other,, mopping the tears of mirth from her eyes.

  But Marion, oblivious, was holding the damask satin rose against her shoulder, and showing how it should be worn.

  " Say, it would be the cats to be that man's wife, wouldn't it? " said one of the girls to Marion as her customer received his package and departed with a courteous bow. " Just see the trouble he took to get her something pretty."

  Marion's eyes glowed, and all the afternoon she meditated on the careless question. " To be that man's wife," what must it be? How she would like to see the wife who was to wear those roses she had just made! What a dear, beautiful woman she must be! What a charmed life she must live, with someone like that to care for her, anticipate her needs, prepare surprises and pleasures for her! It was something like her own beautiful roses; only of course there could be no one like that behind her roses; only some dear old lady perhaps who had seen her, and maybe loved her a little for the sake of a lost daughter, or friend, or a fancied likeness to someone. Well, it was good that she had her dear roses, and she was glad the beloved wife had someone to care for her. She would like to see her some-

  :i5o CRIMSON ROSES

  time with the roses on her breast. She wondered what she would be Hke.

  And then the day's work was finished, and Marion went home to her fading roses.

  There was another church reception early that spring, and a few days before Mrs. Shuttle happened to pass the ribbon-counter and spied Marion:

  " Well, I declare. Marion Warren! Is this where you have been hiding all these months. I've wondered why you don't come to prayer meeting any more, and you weren't at the last two church suppers. I thought you promised to help on our committee. X)o you know, we have just as hard a time getting someone to wash dishes as ever. Old Mrs. Brown won't come any more, and none of the girls are willing to stick in the kitchen and wear old clothes and keep their hands in dish water. Can't you come down and help us Friday night? We need you l)adly? There isn't a girl left on the committee has a brain in her head. They're all for beaux and making eyes at the men. I haven't any time for 'em. Do come back Marion just this once and help me. I'm all tired out."

  Marion with her usual willingness to oblige finally promised to come. She still felt uncomfortable and humiliated when she remembered that last social she had attended, but what difference did it

  make? She had grown a little beyond such things she h*oped. She had made a new life of her own, and ought to be big enough not to be troubled by being ignored by a girl she used to know just because she was not as well dressed as the rest of them. Well, they could find no fault with her now. Thanks to the store she now knew what one ought to wear and exactly how to accomplish it on a very small income. She had learned that the most expensive models almost invariably chose lines of simplicity, both in cut and decoration, and therefore she had been enabled to select from among the cheaper garments, those which followed this simplicity of good taste, liere in the store, also, she was able to purchase really fine material at very low cost, by reason of the many opportunities to buy remnants, and also by reason of her employee's discount. Therefore Marion no longer felt embarrassed by her awkward garments.

  But even though she knew she had a pretty and suitable dress to wear, she did not relish going back among a set of girls who had tried to snub her. It roused feelings which she felt were un-Christian, and unworthy of herself. Nevertheless she had promised, and for this once she meant to go. It would be nice at least to meet the minister's wife again and have a little talk with her. Perhaps she

  would come down to see her sometime, too. That would be delightful. She might even get an afternoon off and ask her to take a cup of tea with her in her tiny third-story room. Of course, it was not palatial, but it was neat and cosy, and she was sure Mrs. Stewart would not mind having to climb two pairs of stairs just for once. She would not want to ask everybody to come up there, but it would be dear to have Mrs. Stewart. It would be like having a visit from a mother. Perhaps she would even dare to ask her about some of the problems which had been perplexing her.

  So Marion agreed to go, and to wash dishes.

  When the evening came Marion dressed with special care in a little satin dress of dark garnet which she had bought because it reminded her of the depths of shadow in her roses. It was wonderfully becoming and s
et off her dark eyes and hair and delicate features perfectly. The sleeves were georgette and showed the roundness of her arms prettily. She toc^ care to arrange the wrists with extra snap catches so that she might tmfasten them and roll the sleeves above her elbows when she washed dishes. Abo she had provided a pretty white rubber apron with little rubber frills around the edges which covered her satin gown amply, and was becoming enough in itself so that she would not feel (mt of place among the well-dressed women.

  As she got out of the trolley in front of the church and walked down the pavement to the side entrance which was brightly lighted a sudden feeling of the old panic came upon her. She seemed to feel herself about to become the scorn of all eyes, and in spite of all her resolves a longing to flee took possession of her. She looked down at her pretty new patent leather slippers with their modest steel buckles, and her slim gray silk ankles, and remembered that there was nothing noticeable about her garments. She was as well dressed as anyone. There was no reason why she should be singled out for scorn on that score. She looked up to the deep dark blue of the sky above her, set with sparkling stars, and breathed a little prayer: " Dear Father, I'm your child. Help me that I shall behave in a w^ay to bring glory to your kingdom and not discredit. Help me not to be frightened, or be a fool."

  Then she stepped into the brightly-lighted vestibule and looked about her.

  Mrs. Shuttle was there, looking anxiously for someone. She grabbed her at once eagerly:

  " Oh, you've come. I was afraid you wouldn't. My! I'm so glad! My daughter has the grippe and couldn^t come at all, and I'm all beat out waiting on her all day. Say, you'll take charge of the aides when they come in and tell them where to put their wraps, and what to do first, won't you? I've simply

  got to run home and give Mary her medicine. I forgot to put it where she could reach it, and she's got an awful high fever, and I don't like to leave her without it. And say, after things are pretty well served would you mind staying just to-night and seeing that all the dishes are washed and put away right. You know we've got a new janitor and he doesn't know a thing about where things belong."

  Marion promised, though with sinking heart. She had been hoping to get away early and do a little studying before she went to bed. She had joined a literature class, and a class in current events early in the winter, and they were to have examinations soon. She did want at least an hour before she slept in which to study. But it could not be helped of course. She couldn't say no to Mrs. Shuttle when her daughter was so sick. So Marion went into the big bright room resolved to take off her coat and hat and then go at once to the kitchen and stay there. At least she would have plenty to do to fill the evening, and need not bother about having to sit around alone with no one speaking to her. Likely she wouldn't even get a chance to see the minister's wife and give her invitation.

  As she came out of the ladies' parlor, where she left her wraps, and started across the main Sunday School room to the kitchen two men stood talking together over by the platform. One of them was

  the bank president, Mr. Radnor. The other was a stranger whom she did not even notice. She was thinking that she ought to go over and speak to Mr. Radnor and tell him how grateful she was for his influence which had given her such a fine position. Could she do it now while there were only a few people in the room? Or must she wait until he was done speaking to the stranger?

  While she hesitated the eyes of the two were upon her.

  " Who is that girl, Radnor," the stranger was saying with almost a note of eagerness in his voice.

  " Where ? Over there by the door ? Why, who

  is she? Let me see. Can that be ? Why, yes, I

  guess it is that little Warren girl, Marion Warren. Nice little thing. Good girl. She came to me for a recommendation to get a job last spring. I guess she's made good. She's been a member of this Sunday School ever since she was a little tot in the primary. We have a lot of that sort here, you know, good, plain respectable people, never very well off, but make a good living and are good sturdy stock. Makes a pretty good foundation for a church, you know. And you'd be surprised how that class of people give. Better in proportion sometimes than the really well-to-do.'*

  " I'd like to meet her," said the younger man.

  " Why, yes, certainly," said the kindly superin-

  tendent, a bit perturbed, "but, you know, Lyman, she really isn't in your class. Do you think it wise? It might put notions in her head and she's a nice little thing. Her father was a good man, a sort of saint in his way, you know."

  " She looks it," said the younger man earnestly. " And you're mistaken, Radnor, she is in my class. We've been attending the symphony concerts all winter, not exactly together, but her seat wsls just across the aisle from mine and I've been noticing how she enjoyed the music. So you see we have a common interest. I'd really like to meet her if you don't mind. I'll try not to put any wrong notions in her head," and he laughed amusedly.

  " Why, of course, if you wish it. She is a nice child as I told you. I didn't know she cared especially for music. Somebody, probably, gave her the tickets. She couldn't afford to get them herself I'm quite sure, and I can scarcely think she'd have the inclination of herself. But we can manage the introduction casually, of course. You can see what she is for yourself. I don't imagine she's had more than a common sdiool education. The father was a hard worker, and they lived in one of the smaller streets. But see, she is coming this way. It will be quite all right I am stire."

  Marion had decided to get her duty over quickly

  before the arrival of those obnoxious girls, ?nd was walking straight across the room to Mr. Radnor, stranger or no stranger. She wouldn't interrupt them but a second, and she might not get another chance after she went to the kitchen.

  She did not have to interrupt them by saying excuse me, as she had planned to do, for she found the two men waiting for her as if they had expected her, and the bank president with his most presidential air greeted her with his smile.

  " Why, good evening, Miss Marion, I've been wondering how you are getting on? This is Mr. Lyman. You have met him before, haven't you? And how did you make out at the store? Did you get what you wanted?"

  He scarcely gave Marion and the yoimg man an opportunity to acknowledge the offhand introduction before he plied her with his question. But he found to his relief that Marion was not especially interested in the young stranger. She acknowledged the introduction with a smile, and a slight inclination of her head, and turned her eyes at once back to Mr. Radnor's face saying in a business-like tone:

  " Yes, Mr. Radnor. I came over here to thank you. I have wanted to tell you before how well I am doing and how much I owe to your kind introduction, but I hesitated to take your time at the bai k,

  and you are always so surrounded after Sunday School that I haven't been able to speak to you."

  " You're quite welcome I'm sure," he said genially, almost pompously, young Lyman thought. " I'm very glad it all came out right. Call upon me again any time I can help in any way. I'm always glad to help any of our school, you know. That's what the church is for. Ah, Lyman, Stewart has come at last. Shall we go over and talk that matter over wnth him ? Good-evening, Miss Warren. We'll see you again I'm sure before the evening is over. This is a pleasant occasion, isn't it? So nice to get all classes together on a common footing."

  They moved away and Marion had somehow the same feeling she had known at the last church social, a feeling of having been put in her place, this time nicely and sweetly, with a smile and an offer of friendliness, but still put in her place

  She did not notice at the moment that the young man had said as he moved away, with a pleasant friendly smile:

  " Well, we shall see you again this evening, Miss Warren." It would have made little impression anyway. Of course, he was just being polite, a nice pleasant stranger. Why was there something about his eyes that looked familiar ? Mr. Radnor had spoken as if perhaps they had known each other before.

  He must be
some member of the church who had moved away and was back for the evening. Of course, she had never seen him before, yet his eyes had looked famihar. He probably resembled someone she knew in the store. Humanity seemed to be cut off in strips, and some belonged to one strip and some to another. This young man belonged to a pleasant type that had the faculty of making one feel at ease. But what difference? She would probably never see him again, anyway. She would go at once to the kitchen, and would not come out again that night if she could help it. It was probably her own fault somehow that people treated her so condescendingly. But it didn't matter. She was getting too sensitive. She must not care whether people liked her or not. Her lot in life was a lonely one and she must get used to it.

  So she made her way at once to the kitchen without further hindrance, and Mr. Radnor, having piloted his man to the minister and talked a few minutes wandered off to talk to another business man who had just arrived, congratulating himself upon the tactful way in which he had managed that introduction. It certainly would have been unfortunate for Lyman to show any attention to that little mouse of a Warren girl. He was fully aware that his own niece Isabel was openly out for that young man's

  attentions, and he would not like to incur her enmity by having been the one to bring about even a casual friendship between Lyman and a little salesgirl from his Sunday School. If Isabel married Lyman she would be well off in his hands and have made a most fitting match for herself, pleasing to the entire family connection, as well as himself. Lyman was certainly a most unusual young man, wealthy as anyone need ever care to be, and upright in every way. Interested in the church, too, which was most commendable in this modem age of indifference, especially among the young. He certainly was an unusual young man!

  Marion reached the kitchen and found three or four women ahead of her, bustling around arranging salad on plates, cutting cakes, making coffee.