296 
THE LADIES’ FLORAL CABINET. 
At sundown there was a gathering up of wraps and 
baskets, and a sauntering homewards. 
“ Where is Hallie ? ” queried two or three. Some one 
answered that she had gone home with a near neighbor, 
and nothing further was said. Instead of this the young 
girl, restless after the conflicting experiences of the day, 
had wandered away by herself for two reasons—to think 
it all over, and to get a clump of maidenhair fern for her 
Wardian case at home. She saw a tantalizing bunch 
growing far out over the edge of a swampy pool, and in 
reaching for the treasure slipped and fell forward. Poor 
little girl! The mud and water was deep, reaching al¬ 
most to her waist; but, worse than all, a sharp pain 
through one slender ankle and an ugly cut on her wrist 
proved all too truly that she was severely hurt. She 
called again and again, loud and clear, but only a mocking 
bluejay answered her; she tried for the hundredth time 
to get out, but the banks were slippery. Two hours 
went on. Hallie, naturally courageous, was getting de¬ 
pressed and frightened, and the pain in her ankle was 
sickening. Almost despairing she was about to make 
one more effort to free herself, when on the crisp 
twigs sounded a quick step, and a cheery whistle rang 
out on the air. It was a difficult strain from “The 
Duet.’’ Instantly Hallie took up the other part, and the 
sleepy birds above her must have been surprised at such 
a burst of melody. There was a moment’s astonished 
pause, and then an anxious voice called : “ Hallie, where 
are you?” and guided by her cry of joy, Fred came 
springing over logs and bushes till he stood by the 
swampy pool. It was the work of but a few moments 
for him to rescue her from her dangerous position. As 
she felt the firm ground under her once more, the 
relief, the reaction, the pain, together, proved too much, 
and she sank in a little quivering heap at Fred’s feet. 
Not in a faint—it is only heroines in novels that faint, 
so easily—but white, sick and unable to stand. Fred, 
though not knowing the extent of her injuries, was 
frightened at what seemed to him a deathly swoon. In 
an instant he was on the ground beside her, chafing the 
limp, wet fingers and resting the tired little head on his 
shoulder. As he gathered her so close to his heart all 
the weary longing of the summer, all the sternly-re¬ 
pressed passion of this hateful day, found utterance at 
his lips : 
“ Oh! Hallie, my darling, speak to me.” A faint, 
pink flush crept into the white cheeks and the brown 
eyes met his with shy, sweet meaning in their depths. 
# ^ 
There was a wedding at the merry Christmastide. 
Mr. Hamilton so far recovered from his defeat as to 
send Hallie for a wedding present a lovely little escri¬ 
toire, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. In one of its small 
compartments, wrapped in tissue paper and small enough 
for a charm to a lady’s watch-chain, was a tiny silver 
whistle. The full significance of this Hallie hardly un¬ 
derstood, until Fred laughingly explained. 
They were standing by the sparkling fire in their cosy 
parlor; suddenly Hallie faced him gravely : 
“Now that I am a married woman, Fred, do you 
want me to give up whistling ? ” 
“ Why, of course not, if it’s any consolation to you.” 
Then drawing the curly head close to his heart, he 
added: “ Oh, blessed little talent! except for that I 
might never have found you ! ” LOUISE. 
TIME TO GO. 
They know the time to go! 
The fairy clocks strike their inaudible hour 
In field and woodland, and each punctual flower 
Bows at the signal an obedient head, 
And hastes to bed. 
The pale anemone 
Glides on her way with scarcely a good-night; 
The violets tie their purple nightcaps tight; 
Hand in hand the dancing columbines, 
In blithesome lines, 
Drop their last courtesies, 
Flit from the scenes and couch them for their rest; 
The meadow lily folds her scarlet vest 
And hides it ’neath the grasses’ lengthening green 
Fair and serene. 
Her sister lily floats 
On the blue pond and raises golden eyes 
To court the golden splendor of the skies. 
The sudden signal comes, and down she goes, 
To find repose 
In the cool depths below. 
A little later, and the asters blue 
Depart in crowds, a brave and cheery crew ; 
While golden-rod, still wide awake and gay, 
Turns him away, 
Furls his bright parasols, 
And, like a little hero, meets his fate. 
The gentians, very proud to sit up late, 
Next follow. Every fern is tucked and set 
’Neath coverlet. 
Downy and soft and warm, 
No little seedling voice is heard to grieve, 
Or make complaints the folding wood beneath; 
Nor lingering dares to stay, for well they know 
The time to go. 
Teach us your patience brave, 
Dear flowers, till we shall dare to part like you, 
Willing God’s will, sure that his clock strikes true, 
That his sweet day augurs a sweeter morrow, 
With smiles, not sorrow. — Selected. 
