Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 April 1888 — IT WAS ALL A DREAM. [ARTICLE]

IT WAS ALL A DREAM.

BY JEFFIE FOBBUSH HANAFORD.

The holidays were over, and the large dry-goods establishment of “Tompkins, Powell <t Co.” was fast assuming Its general every-day appearance. Business was very quiet, compared with the great rush of the previous weeks. Ihe clerks stood chatting withone another, and making remarks about the few customers who strolled in with an I-don’t-know-what-I-came-for air, and straightway strolled out again without purchasing anything. The millinery department on the second floor was entirely deserted as far as customers was concerned. Behind one of the large glass cases, filled with flowers of every conceivable shade, and beautiful feathers in all the latest tints reposing on a bed of soft black velvet, stood a young girl, gazing, with a wistful look in her big blue eyes, at a bunch of beautiful pale ostrich Jtips which she held in her hand. Her hair was short and curly, with a glint of red in it, and her plain black dress, although of cheap material, fitted her slender ligure to perfection. Only sixteen, very pretty, and very poor. Ah! how she longed for fine clothes and the luxuries money could buy. But, alas! her father was dead, and she was the eldest of five children, and obliged to work for her daily bread. She lilted the bunch of pink tips tenderly, and laid them inside of, the case. Such finery was not for* her, and a tear dimmed the blue eyes and rolled down the pretty cheek. Ah! how tired she was; for the past two weeks the work bad been very hard for one so inexperienced as Delna Kingston. Obliged to stand up all day, and show one bunch of flowers, then another, to crowds of richly dressed ladies, who were all so undecided as to what color they really did want. Delna remembered it all with a sigh as she glanced up at the big clock on the wall. Only half-past 1 nearly five hours longer. Oh, dear! how her head ached. Only one customer had been near the feather counter dining the morning—a lady who came to exchange the very bunch of pink tips she had just replaced in the case.

The lady said she had decided to have pale-green tips instead of pink. Again Delna glanced at the clock. How slowly the hands move. Twenty-five minutes of two! Hark! What was that? The sweetest music Delna had ever heard, like'little bells. And listen! —someone is speaking; it cannot be—yes, it is the bunch of pink tips. “Glad to get back? No, I can’t say that I am, for the lady that bought me put me on the loveliest pink plush bonnet I ever saw, and 1 know I looked well. Then I had a very pleasant time, for I went to the opera twice and to a grand reception, all inside of two days.” “Ah! how nice,” murmured a bright red rose. “■Yes, it was nice,” continued the pink tips, “nice while it lasted, but I was so angry when I heard the lady tell Miss Delna that she had scarcely had me out of the box, for on comparing me with the shade of plush on the bonnet she saw at once that we did not harmonize, and she preferred green.” “It is a shamq,” spoke up a cluster of white lilies, indignantly. “A lady purchased me and said I was for a bride to wear. She took me home, and that very evening the bride, a lovely blonde, fastened me among the soft, rich 1 ice on her breast. I looked even better than the real flowers, for I never fade. I felt a glow of pride as I nestled close to the beautiful white lace, and I thought what a happy life was before me. But alas! the very next day I was exchanged for a bunch of scarlet roses. ’’ And, saying this, the white lilies relapsed into silence. “Well! it is very pleasant here,” ventured a spray of white daisies, quietly. “Yes, very pleasant,.and Miss Delna is very tender of us all,” said the blue violets, thoughtfully. “Let me tell my experience,” spoke up a bunch of ostrich tips, of an exquisite shade of green. “A lady returned me last week, after keeping me three days, and during that time was I utterly miserable, if you will believe it. She selected me for a hat of blue velvet—just think of it—green and blue. It is a wonder I survived. I had the ‘blues’ all the time I was there, and was delighted when I found myself back here once more. ”

“That was a dreadful experience,” said a cluster of lovely white roses. “1 can sympathize with you, for, if anything, my fate was even more heartrending than vours.” The green tips rustled softly, and looked interested. “Yes,” continued the white roses, speaking very slowly. “I was very unfortunate. A woman bought me, and paid for me. I didn’t like her appearance, but I was obliged to go with her. It was a long, long distance to her house, and she walked every step of the way, and carried me in a thin— ven/ fftin paste-board box. 0, but it was cold.” And the white roses shivered at the remembrance. it was cold, I can tell vou; quite a contrast to this warm case. Well, at last she arrived at home and threw the box, that I was in, into the lap of a young girl, who was sitting by the window. The girl tore open the box and snatched—yes, actually snatched me out, not very tenderly, I can assure you; then she turned me over and over, pulled me this way and that, and finally she spoke. You can imagine the tone of her voice; the words were these:

Ob, tna, why didn’t you get red roses? That’s what I sent for; white ones gets dirty so quick.’ “‘La. child!’said the mother, ‘them’s the nicest, red ones looks so cheap;’ then she grabbed me and put me up to her nose. I can’t begin to tell you what I suffered. I prayed Hie. Then the girl spoke again: f “ ’Give ’em to me, ma. I shan't keep em. lIP exchange ’dm, to-morrow, for red ones. I guess I know what I want.’ “And she pushed me back into the box, utterly regardless of the fact that she crushed all my pretty white peials. Ah! I am v> ry glad she returned me; I am happy hero.”

And the white roses nestled lovingly against black velvet with a contented sigh. “lour experience should make us all contented with our present quiet, uneventful life,” said a long grav ostrich plume, and the pink tips all nodded approval. "Very true,” said a cluster of bright purple pansies. “I was longing to go forth into the world, but from now on, lam content to remain here under Miss Delna’s kind protecting care.” There was a soft rustle of approbation among the beautiful moss rose buds, and Delna made up her mind she would speak to them, but hark! —what was that? some one calling her name? Where was she? What had happened? “.Viis3 Kingston,” it was the voice of the floor-walker, “Miss Kingston, are you ill?” Delna lifted her head, and looked around quite bewildered. There was the case before her filled with flowers and feathers, all in perfect order. Not a flutter, not a murmur, dead silence over all. And there was the big clock on the wall, the hands pointing to quarter of two.

Delna drew her hand* across her eyes, and managed to stammer, “I am quite well, sir, ” when she suddenly bebame aware there was a lady present also. Then the floor-walker spoke again. “Miss Kingston, this lady wishes to exchange some flowers she purchased yesterday.” And saying this he walked away to the farther end of the room. Delna took the returned flowers, a bunch of beautiful scarlet poppies, and replaced them in the case, at the same time wondering if they were glad to get back again, and at the lady’s request placed several clusters of roses—yellow, scarlet, pink, and white—on top of the case for her inspection. After considerable reflection the lady decided she would have the pink roses, but as soon as Delna had them snugly laid in a box, and nicely fastened with a small cord, the lady changed her mind and said she preferred the yellow ones. At last she was satisfied, and took her departure, leaving Delna once more alone with the flowers, the feathers, and her thoughts. “It was all a dream,” she said, with a regretful sigh. “AU a dream, and yet it was true—all true.”