nows who has done it."

"What do you mean?" Ware looked puzzled.

"What I say; I usually do. The grave has been put to rights. At first
few people noticed it, because few go into that corner; but one day some
imp of a choir boy saw the improvement, and told old Thomas. He came and
looked at it, and others came. No one knew who had put it to rights.
Then," continued Mrs. Parry impressively, "it was discovered that it was
done at night."

"At night?"

"Yes; but no one seems to know by whom or at what time. Every morning
some fresh improvement was noted. Some people watched, but saw no one
coming. Yet when the watching was dropped there was something fresh
done. It may be a brownie," added Mrs. Parry, with a sniff, "but it's a
mystery. Even I can't find out the truth."

"It's very strange," said Ware thoughtfully.

"It's worse; it's improper," cried Mrs. Parry in her sternest voice. "I
see no reason why such a thing should be done in the darkness of night.
Though to be sure," she continued, rubbing her nose, "we have had
moonlight lately."

"I must see into this," said Ware, rising.

"You'll find nothing. Everyone has watched, but to no purpose, my
friend. Now the idiots talk of ghosts, and what not."

"What do you think yourself?" asked Giles.

"Why, that some one who loved Daisy better than you did has taken pity
on her neglected grave, and----"

"Don't!" he cried, wincing. "I did my best to make her happy. The
engagement was unfortunate."

"The marriage would have been still more so. It is just as well the poor
girl died. No, no, I don't blame you. But Anne----"

"Don't say a word against Anne," he interrupted quickly. Then, before
his hostess could reply, he took his leave. "I must be going now."

Mrs. Parry was not at all pleased, but knowing how far she could go,
decided that she had reached the limit of his forbearance. With feminine
craft she smothered her resentment, and parted from him in the most
cordial manner. All the same, she still held to her opinion that Anne
was not the wife for her favorite.

Giles went at once to the churchyard to view Daisy's grave. He found
everything in good order. The grass was shorn, the flowers were
blooming, and the white marble of the stone had been cleansed carefully.
Wondering who had performed this labor of love, he returned to get his
horse. At the gate of the churchyard a tall man passed him with bent
head. As he brushed past the young squire he raised it