" With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder. ” “Nor I,” said Ann Veronica. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. She admired and rather pitied him, and she was unfeignedly grateful to him. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date.
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