Main  Contacts  
Table of contents
Coming Home
Old Friends with New Faces
Miss Campbell
Thorns Among the Roses
Prince Charming
Polishing Mac
Breakers Ahead
New Year's Calls
The Sad and Sober Part
Small Temptations
At Kitty's Ball
Both Sides
Aunt Clara's Plan
Alas for Charlie!
Good Works
Among the Haycocks
Which Was It?
Behind the Fountain
What Mac Did
How Phebe Earned Her Welcome
Short and Sweet

some night burst upon him in a pale rosy cloud, like the Aurora to 

whom he often likened her. She knew it would please him very 

much and she longed to do all she honestly could to gratify the 

poor fellow, for her tender heart already felt some remorseful 

pangs, remembering how severe she had been the night before. She 

could not revoke her words, because she meant them every one, 

but she might be kind and show that she did not wholly shut him 

out from her regard by asking him to go with her to Kitty's ball and 

gratify his artistic taste by a lovely costume. A very girlish but 

kindly plan, for that ball was to be the last of her frivolities, so she 

wanted it to be a pleasant one and felt that "being friends" with 

Charlie would add much to her enjoyment. 


This idea made her fingers tighten on the gleaming fabric so 

temptingly upheld, and she was about to take it when, "If ye 

please, sir, would ye kindly tell me where I'd be finding the flannel 

place?" said a voice behind her, and, glancing up, she saw a meek 

little Irishwoman looking quite lost and out of place among the 

luxuries around her. 


"Downstairs, turn to the left," was the clerk's hasty reply, with a 

vague wave of the hand which left the inquirer more in the dark 

than ever. 


Rose saw the woman's perplexity and said kindly, "I'll show you 

this way." 


"I'm ashamed to be throublin' ye, miss, but it's strange I am in it, 

and wouldn't be comin' here at all, at all, barrin' they tould me I'd 

get the bit I'm wantin' chaper in this big shop than the little ones 

more becomin' the like o' me," explained the little woman humbly. 


Rose looked again as she led the way through a well-dressed 

crowd of busy shoppers, and something in the anxious, tired face 

under the old woolen hood the bare, purple hands holding fast a 

meager wallet and a faded scrap of the dotted flannel little 

children's frocks are so often made of touched the generous heart 

that never could see want without an impulse to relieve it. She had 

meant only to point the way, but, following a new impulse, she 

went on, listening to the poor soul's motherly prattle about "me 

baby" and the "throuble" it was to "find clothes for the growin' 

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