Flowers for Your Pretty Lady?
She walked along the hedgerows placing flowers in her basket—poppies, cornflowers, orchids and foliage. She trudged three miles into town with desperation in her heart.
“Buy some flowers for your pretty lady, mister?” She was rudely pushed aside. She wandered Main Street all day. Despondent, legs aching and flowers wilting.
Eventually she sat and wept, until a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up into the face of a hero.
“Please sir, me ma is dying. She needs a physic or me and Tommy will end up in the workhouse.”
“I’m a doctor. I’ll help,” he said.