one like this. Yet he was so filled with sympathy and
sorrow for her that it was not embarrassing. She did not seem like an
ordinary girl. She was set apart by her sorrow. He ordered the daintiest
and most attractive that the plain menu of the little restaurant
afforded, but he only succeeded in getting her to eat a few mouthfuls
and drink a cup of tea. Nevertheless it did her good. He could see a
faint color coming into her cheeks. He spoke of college and his
examinations, as if she knew all about him. He thought it might give her
a more secure feeling if she knew he was a student at the university.
But she took it all as a matter that concerned her not in the least,
with that air of aloofness of spirit that showed him he was not touching
more than the surface of her being. Her real self was just bearing it to
get rid of him and get back to her sorrow alone.

Before he left her he was moved to tell her how he had seen the little
child coming out to greet her. He thought perhaps she had not heard
those last joyous words of greeting and would want to know.

The light leaped up in her face in a vivid flame for the first time, her
eyes shone with the tears that sprang mercifully into them, and her lips
trembled. She put out a little cold hand and touched his coat-sleeve:

"Oh, I thank you! That is precious," she said, and, turning aside her
head, she wept. It was a relief to see the strained look break and the
healing tears flow. He left her then, but he could not get away from the
thought of her all night with her sorrow alone. It was as if he had to
bear it with her because there was no one else to do so.

When he left her he went and looked up the minister with whom he had
made brief arrangements over the telephone the night before. He had to
confess to himself that his real object in coming had been to make sure
the man was "good enough for the job."

The Rev. John Burns was small, sandy, homely, with kind, twinkling
red-brown eyes, a wide mouth, an ugly nose, and freckles; but he had a
smile that was cordiality itself, and a great big paw that gripped a
real welcome.

Courtland explained that he had come about the funeral. He felt
embarrassed because there really wasn't anything to say. He had given
all necessary details over the 'phone, but the kind, attentive eyes were
sympathetic, and he found himself telling the story of the tragedy. He
liked the way the minister received it. It was the way a minister should