"Johnny the flower-man" was a German florist on a small scale, who had a little glass-enclosed stand on the corner of the avenue next to that on which we lived, and who was extensively patronized by our family and many of our neighbors. His box of a place, cosey, warm, and fragrant, was a favorite resort of our children; and much of their pocket-money went to the purchase of the potted plants and cut flowers which he sold to them at a wonderfully reasonable rate. But what had the little German to do with Jim and his peanut-stand? Allie soon enlightened us.
"Jim was going to have the stand on that corner," she said, "and he had leave to do it; but mamma and aunt Emily said it would not do for Tony and Matty to sit out of doors in the cold weather; it would kill Matty, they said. And Jim was so disappointed, and he didn't know what to do; and one day when sister Milly sent him to Johnny's, he told him about it, and about Tony and Matty; and that lovely old Johnny,—Daisy and I ask God to bless him every night when we've done our own people,—he told Jim he could have a little corner of his store where it was all glass, and the stand could be seen from the street; and then Matty could sit there, and people would come in and buy her peanuts. Wasn't it good in him? We love Johnny, if he does squint, and smell of tobacco, and can't talk very plain."
"And then," said Daisy, taking up the tale in her turn, as Allie paused for breath, "and then there wasn't room there for the roaster, 'cause it's pretty squeezed up in Matty's corner, and in Johnny's store, too, wif the stand there; so Johnny's wife, who lives just a little bit of a way off, lets Tony have the roaster up in her room, and roast the peanuts, and then he runs very quick wif 'em over to Matty, or, if it's a nice, pleasant day, he has it put outside the door. But the smell of the peanuts gets mixed up wif the smell of the flowers, and that isn't so very nice."
"But Jim is making lots of money, he says," continued Allie; "'cause most always when people come in to buy flowers, Johnny tells 'em they'd better buy peanuts, too; and Jim printed a sign in German about peanuts inside, and put the meaning in English beneath, and he says he thinks he is doing a better business than if Matty sat outside. Norman and Douglas buy lots, but," with a little sigh, "mother don't like Daisy and me to eat peanuts. It would be a good way to do charity if she would let us; but sometimes we buy some, and give them to the servants."
Jim and his "peanut undertakin'," as Captain Yorke had called it, had, in the press of other and greater interests, almost passed from my mind, and I had made no inquiries about it lately; but, as visions of numerous peanut-shells in the most unheard of places returned to my recollection, I could not doubt the truth of Allie's assertion in regard to my brothers.
While the children had been talking, we had been gradually walking on towards the desired haven,—the corner where the German florist had his tiny store; and presently we came to it. The little glass enclosure was one mass of vivid green, and brilliant, glowing color; for Johnny was remarkably successful in the treatment of his plants, and they always wore a thrifty, healthy aspect, delightful to behold.
Without, just at the side of the door of entrance, hung the sign described by Allie; and Daisy at once drew our attention to it.
The "German" legend ran thus:—
"Goot rost benuts ish incite, nein sents a quoort.
Shtep in unt py."