Little Pollie / Or a Bunch of Violets

been accomplished, she heard a well-known voice inside, and knew that Mrs. Flanagan

ewoman in every sense, though not of the form or manner in which we are accustomed to associate that word. Years ago she had been a servant in a farmhouse, where she was valued and esteemed by all as a sincere though humble f

irst London and London ways sadly puzzled her, yet she soon became used to the change

Mike, crushing him beneath its weight, and when next Martha Flanagan looked on her husband's face,

or herself and child; and proud she was of her darling, her beautiful Nora, who grew up a sweet flower of loveliness

this rare beauty brightening the lowly home! But the mother's idol was of clay; in wo

mployed by a fruiterer and florist, she found the place empty, no one to greet

s who flaunted by fearing yet hoping to see her lost child. But the name of Nora never passed her lips. No one who knew Mrs. Flanagan imagined of this canker at her hea

o the room. "Here you are, then; I thought from what your mot

look of supreme importance as she placed her basket

ry tiny bit of it, so let us try some directly. See, dear Mrs Flanagan, I bought these water-cresses for you. S

t, which on the Sabbath always found a place on Mrs. Turner's table; for that day was hailed

ng them afterwards in a pretty plate of her own, and then, placing them and the viole

unable even to say

weak, and when after a little while she looked up, and lovingly kissed the child, Pollie

voice "may God ever keep you pure and sim

red her usual spirits, and indulged in many a hearty laugh at the child's plans of what she should now do for mother, and the widow looked on with her quiet smile, happy in her

here love is, than a stalle