at he was doing. I should not wish
any one to think otherwise. I am prouder of him than I had ever expected
to be again."

A choir of girls with glistening eyes sang sweet, sad songs at the
funeral, songs which, while they lasted, took away the ache of
bereavement, like a cool sponge pressed upon a smarting spot. It seemed
almost cruel that they must ever cease. And, after the funeral, the young
men and girls who had known George, not feeling like returning that day
to their ordinary thoughts and occupations, gathered at the house of one
of them and passed the hours till dusk, talking tenderly of the departed,
and recalling his generous traits and gracious ways.

The funeral had taken place on the day fixed for the picnic. The latter,
in consideration of the saddened temper of the young people, was put off
a fortnight.

CHAPTER III.

About half-past eight on the morning of the day set for the postponed
picnic, Henry knocked at Widow Brand's door. He had by no means forgotten
Madeline's consent to allow him to carry her basket, although two weeks
had intervened.

She came to the door herself. He had never seen her in anything that set
off her dark eyes and olive complexion more richly than the simple picnic
dress of white, trimmed with a little crimson braid about the neck and
sleeves, which she wore to-day. It was gathered up at the bottom for
wandering in the woods, just enough to show the little boots. She looked
surprised at seeing him, and exclaimed--

"You haven't come to tell me that the picnic is put off again, or Laura's
sick?"

"The picnic is all right, and Laura too. I've come to carry your basket
for you."

"Why, you're really very kind," said she, as if she thought him slightly
officious.

"Don't you remember you told me I might do so?" he said, getting a little
red under her cool inspection.

"When did I?"

"Two weeks ago, that evening poor George spoke in meeting."

"Oh!" she answered, smiling, "so long ago as that? What a terrible memory
you have! Come in just a moment, please; I'm nearly ready."

Whether she merely took his word for it, or whether she had remembered
her promise perfectly well all the time, and only wanted to make him ask
twice for the favour, lest he should feel too presumptuous, I don't
pretend to know. Mrs. Brand set a chair for him with much cordiality. She
was a gentle, mild-mannered little lady, such a contrast in style and
character to Madeline that there