152 
THE LADIES' FLORAL CABINET. 
He did not know much about dying, but ne did know 
that he should lose his baby sister, and the thought 
caused a strange choking in his throat. 
Baby Rose had been very cunning when she was well, 
and had been very fond of him; and when his father 
came home drunk and used to beat him, he would 
crawl by her side and j would sometime wake up and 
stroke his face and whisper, “ Poo’ Wobby,” and in some 
way, though why he knew not, it made him feel better. 
It is true he used to object to the care of her very often, 
and he had occasionally struck her, and this was not 
pleasant to remember now as he sat and watched her. 
In fact, there wasn’t much pleasant that day for poor 
Rob, and he felt thoroughly miserable as he sat there 
and watched the baby, or dragged himself wearily out 
into the street and back again, untilat last the wretched 
day was over and he crept across the foot of the bed 
and pulled a comer of the old comforter over him. 
wiping away a tear on it secretly, and at last fell 
asleep. 
When he awoke the next morning, his mother was 
moving about the room in a mechanical sort of way 
preparing the breakfast. He noticed a changed expres¬ 
sion, a sadder look upon her face, and then he raised 
hims elf on one elbow and looked over to where the baby 
was lying. The little heap of yellow flannel was wonder¬ 
fully still, and the breathing he had heard as he fell 
asleep was now hushed. A strange feeling came over 
him: he did not know much about it, hut it might be 
that the baby was dead. 
His mother must have guessed his thought, for just 
then she turned, and seeing that he was awake, said, 
“ The baby’s dead.” 
Rob made no reply, but the choking came more and 
more in his throat, and he sniffed suspiciously, and at 
last before getting out of bed, was forced to mb his eyes 
more than once with the comforter. 
The doctor came in and gave some directions about 
burying the baby; and after he left, Mrs. McGregor, 
rousing herself from her apathy, turned to Bob and 
said— 
“ Ye’d better go out, Bob, and get the 6ity man to 
come round and see about burying the baby. It’s no 
good keeping her here in the house and exposin’ other 
folks’ children.” 
Rob put on his hat and dragged himself heavilv out 
doors, thinking that the baby would never welcome 
him again on his return. There was a group of boys in 
the place as he went out, and one of them hailed him. 
“ Hi, brick-top, do ye want to play hockey ? ” 
“ Shut up,” muttered another; “ he’s the feller that’s 
got a sister dead with diptherv.” 
Bob was thankful for the rough sympathy, only he 
did not know what the feeling was. and he went on to 
the city undertaker’s, thinking all the way of his dead 
sister Rose. 
He remembered how fond she was of flowers, what 
pleasure she had taken in picking Dandelions one day 
when he had taken her up on the Common, and how 
she had taken them home as great treasures, and how 
delighted she had been when one Sunday his father had 
taken them up to the Public Garden ; and then he re¬ 
membered, though how he knew would be hard to say, 
that rich people had flowers when they buried their 
friends, and he began to wonder if he could get any for 
Rose; just one Rose, because when she was a little baby 
his father brought home some Scotch Roses, and his 
mother’s face lighted up, and she exclaimed, “ We’ll call 
the baby Rose.” 
Rob had almost forgotten what Roses were, but ho 
knew where there was a florist’s where ho might buy 
one, and he emptied his pockets to see how much he 
had. 
He found three cents, enough, he thought, to buy him 
a Rose to put in the baby’s hand, and so, after doing 
his errand at the undertaker’s, he turned his steps to a 
florist's. 
That same afternoon, Harry Brenton, a young law- 
student. went into a florist’s to see about some Roses 
that he had ordered to send to Miss Edith Wcstford, 
who had consented to attend a party with him that 
night. 
“Your're lucky to have engaged those ahead, Mi - . 
Brenton,” said the florist, laying out a double handful 
of Jacqueminots before him, “ for I don’t believe there’s 
a Rose to be had in town this afternoon. I’ve never seen 
such a rush for flowers at this season.” 
As Harry was paying for the flowers, he noticed a 
small boy with ragged clothes and a dirty, mournful 
face gazing upon them eagerly. 
“ Say, mister, is them Roses?’’ 
“ Yes,” snapped the florist, who had been tormented 
all day by an incessant demand for advertising cards. 
“ What do you want here r” 
Would ye sell me one o’ them for three cents?” 
“ They’re all sold ; cost fifty cents, too. If that’s all 
you want, clear out.” 
Rob turned away disconsolately. They might as well 
have cost fifty dollars as far as his ability to buy one 
went, and in spite of himself a tear rolled down Iris 
■ cheek. Harry, who, in spite of a rough manner, was 
really tender-hearted, noticed it, and such a strange re¬ 
quest and such tokens of grief from a small “ mucker,” 
whose only use in life, in his opinion, was to hold his 
horse or chase tennis-balls, excited his curiosity, and he 
asked in a sharp but not unkindly tone,— 
“ What do you want of a Rose, Johnny ?” 
“ I want it for my little sister.” 
“ Does she like Roses?” * 
“ She did, but she’s dead now.” 
“ Oh !” A pause. “Say, what do you want of a Rose 
for her now, then?” 
‘ 1 They’re cornin’ to bury her this afternoon, an’ I 
wanted a Rose to stick in her hand, so as t© look nice, 
an’ now I haint got money enough.” 
Harry began to be interested, and had half a mind to 
give him one of those he had intended for Miss West- 
ford, but he concluded to inquire a little further into 
the boy’s story, and at last became so much interested 
that he took his Roses, to the surprise of the florist, who 
had been waiting his order to have them sent, and told 
Rob that he would go along with him and see what 
could be done. 
It was his first visit to a poor tenement-house, and the 
squalor and misery of their surroundings, the woman’s 
sad story, and most of all, the pitiful, silent figure on 
the bed, moved him more than he cared to confess, yet 
in his embarrassment he knew neither what to say or 
what to do. 
In the midst of his deliberation, however, a heavy 
tread and a knock was heard, and two men entered, one 
carrying under his arm a little, stained-pine coffin. 
