Zunaed ebooks

Annie's mother was a dressmaker, and sewed for me and my friends. She
was left a widow when her one little girl was five years old. Her
husband was drowned off the Jersey coast, and out of blinding pain and
loss and anguish had grown a sort of idolatry for the delicate,
beautiful child whose brown eyes looked like the young husband's.
For fifteen years this mother had loved and worked for Annie, her whole
being going out to bless her one child. I had grown fond of them; and in
small ways, with books and flowers, outings and simple pleasures, I had
made myself dear to them. The end of the delicate girl's life had not
seemed so near, though her doom had been hovering about her for years.
I had thought it all over as I took the Easter lilies from my
window-shelf and wrapped them in thick papers and hid them out of the
storm under my cloak. I knew there would be no other flowers in their
wretched room. How endless was the way to this East-Side tenement house!
No elevated roads, no rapid transit across the great city then as there
are now.


Pages:
58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82