Francis; "and it cost a
great deal of money."

Lois nodded.

"They box it up in the winter, so it won't be injured by the
weather," said Francis.

Lois nodded again. Presently they turned away, and went on to a new
grave, covered with wreaths and floral devices. The fragrance of
tuberoses and carnations came in their faces.

"This is the grave Aunt Jane wanted you to see," said Francis.

"Yes, sir," returned Lois.

They stood staring silently at the long mound covered with flowers.
Francis turned.

"Suppose we go over this way," said he.

Lois followed him as he strode along the little grassy paths between
the burial lots. On the farther side of the cemetery the ground
sloped abruptly to a field of new grass. Francis stooped and felt of
the short grass on the bank.

"It's dry," said he. "I don't think your aunt would mind. Suppose we
sit down here and rest a few minutes?"

Lois looked at him hesitatingly.

"Oh, sit down just a few minutes," he said, with a pleasant laugh.

They both seated themselves on the bank, and looked down into the
field.

"It's pleasant here, isn't it?" said Francis.

"Real pleasant."

The young man looked kindly, although a little constrainedly, down
into his companion's face.

"I hear you haven't been very well," said he. "I hope you feel better
since you came to Elliot?"

"Yes, thank you; I guess I do," replied Lois.

Francis still looked at her. Her little face bent, faintly rosy,
under her hat. There was a grave pitifulness, like an old woman's,
about her mouth, but her shoulders looked very young and slender.

"Suppose you take off your hat," said he, "and let the air come on
your forehead. I've got mine off; it's more comfortable. You won't
catch cold. It's warm as summer."

Lois took off her hat.

"That's better," said Francis, approvingly. "You're going to live
right along here in Elliot with your aunt, aren't you?"

Lois looked up at him suddenly. She was very pale, and her eyes were
full of terror.

"Why, what is the matter? What have I said?" he cried out, in
bewilderment.

Lois bent over and hid her face; her back heaved with sobs.

Francis stared at her. "Why, what is the matter?" he cried again.
"Have I done anything?" He hesitated. Then he put his hand on her
little moist curly head. Lois' hair was not thick, but it curled
softly. "Why, you poor little girl," said he; "don't cry so;" and his
voice was full of embarrassed tenderness.

Lois sob