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The bodies that composed this committee were the Natchitoches Equal Rights Club, represented by Mrs. S. J. Henry; the Shreveport Suffrage Club by Mrs. J. D. and Mrs. W. A. Wilkinson; the Louisiana branch of the National Woman's Party, by Mrs. M. R. Bankston, Mrs. E. J. Graham, Mrs. Rosella Bayhi; the Woman Suffrage Party by Mrs. Joseph Devereux, Mrs. J. E. Friend. Mrs.
The heathen children wouldn't know if you kept some for candy and things." Louie Ming looked shy. "You say wha' fo' I give money?" she asked softly. "Yes," said Rosella. "Why do you give so much?" Louie Ming looked down at the blue mite box. Somehow it seemed hard for her to answer, at first. Then she spoke softly: "One time I have baby brudder. He die. Mudder cry, cry, cry. I cry, cry all time.
You happened on what I managed you should, else that long circus performance with Mademoiselle Rosella Gimpkello, famous bareback rider, had not been put on the sawdust this hot day." "What are you saying, Thaine Aydelot?" Leigh asked. "You said last night you were coming over here today and that after you had come you might need my advice.
The good little girl had evidently been schooled to repress her dread and repugnance at my unlucky appearance, and was painfully polite, only shutting her eyes when she came to shake hands with me; but after Rosella condescended to adopt me, we became excellent friends.
He was telling a story a funny story, about what Rosella, with her thoughts on "Patroclus," could not for the life of her have said, and she must needs listen in patience and with perfunctory merriment while the narrative was conducted to its close with all the accompaniment of stamped feet and slapped knees. "'Why, becoth, mithtah, said that nigger.
When, therefore, he had permitted himself to be even enthusiastic over "Patroclus," Rosella had been elated beyond the power of expression, and had returned home with blazing cheeks and shining eyes, to lie awake half the night thinking of her story, planning, perfecting, considering and reconsidering. Like her short stories, the tale was of extreme delicacy in both sentiment and design.
This sort did not need to be read. It was declined already. She picked up the next. It was in an underwear-box of green pasteboard. "The staid old town of Salem," it read, "was all astir one bright and sunny morning in the year 1604." Rosella groaned. "Another!" she said.
Picture-galleries and cathedrals were only a drag to her, and if the experiences that were put into Rosella's mouth for the benefit of her untravelled sisters could have been written down, they would have been as unconventional as Mark Twain's adventures. Rosella went through the whole tour, and left a leg behind in the hinge of a door, but in compensation brought home a Paris bonnet and mantle.
In vain did the unwearied colonel call his attention to Lady Evelyn Hope, the lovely blonde; the fascinating Spanish Countess Rosella; to the twin sisters, the Ladies Isabel and Marie Duncan he looked at them without interest. "I wonder," thought the colonel to himself, "if the woman be living who could touch that cold, icy heart!"
I didn't work two months, and I I'm afraid if Louie Ming hadn't loved Jesus better than I did, Drew and I wouldn't have had hardly any money in our mite boxes." The blind missionary wanted to know about Louie Ming, and Rosella told the missionary all about her. Then the blind missionary kissed Louie Ming's cheek, and said, "Many that are last shall be first."
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