Yellow Roses

Two boys and a girl about ten years old, ragged, but with clean hands and faces, stepped into

a florist’s shop one bright, sunny afternoon. From their deportment one would have judged that

their errand was one of importance, for there was a serious look on their faces. The boys had

removed their hats, and one of them, acting as spokesman, approaching a salesman, said,

“We’re the committee,and we’d like some nice yellow flowers.”

The florist sized up his customers and offered them some inexpensive blossoms.

“I think we’d like something better than that.”

“Must they be yellow?” the salesman inquired.

“Yes, sir,” the little fellow replied. “You see, mister, Mickey would like’m better

if they were yellow, because Mickey had a yellow sweater.”

When asked if the flowers were for a funeral, the spokesman of the committee nodded

and made an attempt to speak. Tears had already appeared in the little girl’s eyes and were

running down her cheeks. “She’s his sister,” the boy said. “Mickey was a good kid.

A truck—just  yesterday—we was playing a game in the street. We say it happen, but there was

nothing we could do.” His eyes were moist by this time, and  his voice atremble.

Then the other boy took up the thread of the story, “Us kids took up a collection, we got eighteen cents.

Would-would roses cost an awful lot, mister? Nice yellow roses?”

The big hearted florist sensed the situation. “I have some nice yellow roses here,” he said, “that I’m selling for eighteen cents a dozen,” and showed them to the committee.

“Those will be great,” said one of the boys.

“Yes, Mickey would love those,” the other added.

“All right,” said the florist, “I will make up a nice spray, and put some ferns in it

and a pretty ribbon around it. Where shall I send it for you?”

The spray was quickly arranged, the eighteen cents paid, and the happy

though sorrowing youngsters hurried off to give the yellow roses to Mickey.

The sad part of this story is that poor Mickey didn’t know of their love and affection.

He didn’t see the tear-reddened eyes, hear the choking words, or enjoy

the beautiful yellow roses. He went through life without the flowers.

Nothing is too good for our loved ones after they are gone. Kind words are freely given, their good deeds told again and again, their virtues repeated over and over.

And many of these dear ones, who had not one bouquet during life,

are showered with the best the florists produce after it has slipped from them.

It is a beautiful custom to buy flowers when a loved one is called in death,

but why wait until the funeral to give flowers? Why not resolve to pass out

a few bouquets to our dear ones, our friends, while they can enjoy them?

Magnify the virtues in them now, tell of their good qualities, say the kind words, yes, even buy flowers.