gn and others learned from Exmoor boys, they finally found the
gruesome spot.

"Why did he do it?" asked Judy.

"It was never told," answered Nance, who had learned all there was to
know concerning the tragedy from Andy McLean.

"Poor boy," cried Molly, seeing in her mind a picture of the body
dangling from a lower limb of the old oak. "Let's make him a garland of
leaves," she proposed, "just to signify that we are sorry for him."

The whole class now assembled at Charlie's Oak and proceeded to gather
branches of autumn leaves. With the aid of a handkerchief and a ribbon,
these were arranged in the semblance of a large wreath. On the fly leaf,
torn from the volume of Shelley, Judy wrote:

"In memory of poor Charlie. May his soul rest in peace. Class of 19--,
Wellington."

The wreath was laid against the tree and the inscription secured with a
pin stuck into the bark. Then the Class of 19--Wellington went on its
way rejoicing, never dreaming of the reward the wreath of autumn leaves
was to bring them. Perhaps the restless spirit of poor Charlie felt
grateful for the sympathy and whispered into the ear of somebody--at any
rate, luck came of the incident of the wreath.

Not long after this, seniors roaming about the woods heard the blast of
Judy's trumpet. It was still too early for lunch and they felt
instinctively that it was a call to arms. Presently wandering classmates
came running up from every direction like a company of frightened
nymphs.

Just about this time an old gentleman, strolling down the wood path,
paused at Charlie's Oak. He was a very youthful looking old man, his
cheeks as ruddy as winter apples and his blue eyes as clear and bright
as a boy's. He carried a cane which he used to toss twigs from his path.
Two Irish setters followed at his heels sniffing the ground trodden down
a little while before by the feet of numerous Wellington maids.

"Ahem! What's this?" remarked the old gentleman aloud, fitting his
glasses on his nose and leaning over to examine the wreath. Then he
released the inscription from the pin and carefully read it twice,
replacing it afterward just over the wreath. Baring his head, he stood
quite still under the limb for so long a time that the impatient dogs
trotted off down the path, and then came back again to look for their
master.

"Poor Charlie," repeated the old man. "May his soul rest in peace." With
a sigh he put on his hat and started slowly down the path. "Poor
C