to the city in the carriage. But they
waited beside the grave until the sexton had finished his work; Farr
felt an uncontrollable impulse to wait till all was ended, as he had
always waited every night till the little girl was sound asleep and
tucked up in bed in the good woman's house. He sat crouched on the edge
of a turfed grave, elbows on his knees, his hands clutched into his
shock of hair.

After the sexton had departed, tools on his shoulder, Etienne unwrapped
the bundle. He began to arrange the child's toys on the grave.

"It is as the others do--the fathers and mothers of our faith in the
tenement-houses," he explained, wistfully, to the young man. He pointed
to other graves in the vicinity, short and narrow graves. Toys were
spread on them, too. They were the poor treasures of dead children. The
toys had been left there in the vague, helpless yearning of parents who
strove to reach their human consolation beyond the grave.

Farr gazed on these pitiful memorials of the children--from those graves
to the new mound which covered Rosemarie. The ache that had been in
his throat for so many hours grew more excruciating. He realized that
a father in those circumstances would weep, but he did not feel like
shedding tears, and he was ashamed of himself for what seemed lack of
something within himself. What he felt then, what he had felt ever
since that young doctor had passed sentence of death was surly, bitter
rancor--the anger of a man who is robbed.

"Look all around at the graves," said Etienne, tears in his wrinkles. "I
know something better since I take off that faucet. Not all the martyr
die when the lion eat 'em up and the fire burn 'em; there be some martyr
these day, too. And sometimes, mebbe, some man what have the power will
come here and see all these poor little grave and then he go and choke
the lion what eat all these poor childs."

"What kind of man would that be?" pondered Farr. At that moment he had
little faith--much less faith than usual--in the decency of any human
being; and for many years his faith in humankind had been expressed by a
contemptuous snap of his finger.

To sit there longer and look at that fresh earth with the pathetic toys
sprinkled over it was a torment his soul could not endure.

He arose and hurried away and Etienne followed him. They trudged in
silence back to the city--Etienne to take his rake and pike-pole from
the hands of the man who had substituted at the rack, a