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"Winslow mills" became the fad. Jed built his little shop, or the first installment of it. Mrs. Floretta Winslow died when her son was forty. A merciful release, Captain Sam and the rest called it, but to Jed it was a stunning shock. He had no one to take care of now except himself and he did not know what to do. He moped about like a deserted cat.
I suppose Ben has got that sick sister of his to do for since her father died, and thinks he can't get married with any less pay. Floretta won't make a very cheap wife. She's bound to have things whether or no, and Ben 'ain't never earned so much as some. He's awful steady, but he's slow as cold molasses, and he won't let his sister suffer for no Floretta."
In 1894 he married Miss Floretta Seligman, daughter of James Seligman, the New York banker. Isidor Straus, whose wife elected to perish with him in the ship, was a brother of Nathan and Oscar Straus, a partner with Nathan Straus in R. H. Macy & Co. and L. Straus & Sons, a member of the firm of Abraham & Straus in Brooklyn, and has been well known in politics and charitable work.
She had gone down-town to purchase some ribbon for her graduating dress she and Floretta Vining, who had come over to accompany her. "I feel kind of anxious to have her have something pretty when she graduates," Fanny said, speaking as if she were feeling her way into a mind of opposition. Neither she nor Andrew had ever owned a watch, and the scheme seemed to her breathless with magnificence.
"And no wonder, either; they fix you up so well," she rattled on; then confidingly, "Now, last night after the show a party of us went to supper and a dance and it was in the wee small hours when we broke up. But Madame here can make you all over again. Floretta," she called to an attendant who had entered, "if Mr. Warrington calls up on the 'phone, say I'll call him later." "Yes, Miss Larue."
Oh, she was as fresh as a lark. Can I lunch with you downtown? Of course." Then as she hung up the receiver she called, "Floretta, get me a taxi." "Yes, Miss Larue." "I always have a feeling here," whispered Stella, "that I am being listened to. I mean to speak to Vera about it some time. By the way, wouldn't you like to join us to-night? Vera will be along and Mr.
The hour set for recitation by the first class in arithmetic was often and often monopolized by a hold-over of the first class in reading, while Miss Floretta, artfully spurred by questions asked by the older scholars, rhapsodized on the beauties of James Fenimore Cooper's "Uncas," or Dickens' "Little Nell," or Scott's "Ellen."
"I know who your beau is," Floretta Vining, who was in advance of her years, said to her once, and Ellen looked at her with half-stupid wonder. "His first name begins with a G and his last with a J," Floretta tittered, and Ellen continued to look at her with the faintest suspicion of a blush, because she had a feminine instinct that a blush was in order, not because she knew of any reason for it.
"He is," said Floretta, with another exceedingly foolish giggle. "My, you are as red as a beet." "I ain't old enough to have a beau," Ellen said, her soft cheeks becoming redder, and her baby face all in a tremor. "Yes, you be," Floretta said, with authority, "because you are so pretty, and have got such pretty curls. Ben Simonds said the other day you were the prettiest girl in school."
We walked to Hereson, and with the blessing of the Almighty, we laid the first stone of a Holy Synagogue, assisted by our dear and honoured mother, by Abby Gompertz, her daughter Juliana, Solomon and Sarah Sebag, Rebecca Salomons, Justina Cohen, and her daughter Lucy, Louis Cohen, Floretta, his wife, and their son Henry, Nathaniel Lindo, David Mocatta, my dear Judith, and myself.
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