THE TEA ROSE. 
15 
dressing dolls for poor children, making caps, and knitting socks 
for all the little dirty babies in the region round about. I do be¬ 
lieve that you have made more calls in those two vile, ill-smelling 
alleys back of our house than ever you have in Chesnut-street, 
though you know every body has been half dying to see you; and 
now, to crown all, you must give this choice little bijou to a semp- 
tress girl, when one of your most intimate friends, in your own class, 
would value it so highly. What in the world can people in their 
circumstances want of flowers ? ” 
“ Just the same that I do,” replied Florence, calmly. “ Have 
you never noticed that the little girl never comes here without 
looking wistfully at the opening buds ? and don’t you remember 
the morning when she asked me so prettily if I would let her 
mother come and see it, she was so fond of flowers ?” 
“ But, Florence, only think of this rare flower standing on a table, 
with ham, eggs, cheese, and flour, and stifled in the close little 
room where Mrs. Stephens and her daughter manage to wash, iron, 
cook, and nobody knows what besides.” 
“ Well, Kate, and if I were obliged to live in one coarse room, 
and wash, iron, and cook, as you say—if I had to spend every mo¬ 
ment of my time in hard toil, with no prospect from my window 
but a brick side-walk, or a dirty lane, such a flower as this would 
be untold happiness to me.” 
“ Pshaw, Florence—all sentiment; poor people have no time to 
be sentimental; besides, I don’t think it will grow with them—it 
is a green-house flower, and used to delicate living.” 
“ Oh, as to that, a flower never inquires whether its owner be 
rich or poor; and Mrs. Stephens, whatever else she has not, has 
sunshine of as good a quality as that that streams through our win¬ 
dow. The beautiful things that God makes are the gift of all alike. 
You will see that my little rose will be as well and merry in Mrs 
Stephen’s room as in ours.” 
“ Well, after all, how odd ! when one gives to poor people one 
