148 The Amateur's Book of the Dahlia 



which they will radiate throughout the stuffy 

 little flat on the East Side. 



Carrying an armful of blossoms in to town 

 we are met by a chorus of kiddies, "Oh! Lady, 

 give me a flower!" and almost before their in- 

 tended destination, the hospital, is reached, 

 the blossoms are gone. I, for one, have learned 

 to carry the hospital flowers in a box, and an 

 armful for the kiddies as good measure ! 



Most of these kiddies have parents who still 

 remember their sunny Italy, and tears dim their 

 tired eyes when the little ones carry home these 

 strange bright flowers. They have probably 

 never seen dahlias before, but their colours 

 bring up recollections of the old cottage on the 

 hillside smothered in bloom. They hurry to 

 find an old tomato can and place the stems in 

 water with loving care, forgetting for a time the 

 sordid brick and mortar where they have now 

 chosen to end their days. 



Each week a burden of bloom is carried to 

 hospitals, where our boys from overseas, still 

 broken in health, are making so brave a struggle 

 to get well. Better for them than medicine is 

 this tonic of colour and cheer. Just one glimpse 

 at their faces when they catch sight of the 

 dahlias will tell you this, and your blossoms will 

 go to them as regularly as do mine. 



