ng of a corner-stone, to which all the countryside had
been invited. A block of marble properly marked and dated was ordered
and came. The occasion was to be a great one. A brass band was expected
from a near-by town. There was to be a barbecue, with speeches and
singing from a hastily improvised platform.

John himself supervised the construction of the platform and the long
tables upon which the food was to be served.

The day arrived. The weather was most favorable, there being cool
breezes from the mountains and sufficient clouds to shut off the heat of
the sun. The speakers' stand was hung with flags and decorated with
flowers and evergreens. Long trenches had been dug in the earth. Fires
had been going in them all day. The dry hickory wood was reduced to live
coals and the pork, beef, and lamb were suspended over them. Negro men,
expert in the work, were busy turning and basting the meat, the aroma of
which floated on the air. A little organ from a near-by church had been
placed amid some chairs for choir-singers, and then John discovered that
Tilly was expected to play the instrument.

"The regular organist is away," Cavanaugh explained to John, "but I'll
bet our little girl will do it all right."

John said nothing, for he had caught sight of Tilly seated with her
mother in the front row of benches. She was dressed in white muslin from
head to foot. She wore a cheap sailor straw hat he had never seen her
wear before, and some flowers were pinned on her breast. The whiteness
of her attire seemed to accentuate the rare pinkness of her face, which
deepened as she caught his stealthy glance. She was the last of the
choir to take her place, the others being seated when she finally went
forward, seated herself on the organ-stool, and began to look over the
music. How calm and unruffled she seemed to John! On the platform sat a
candidate for the Governorship of the state, several ministers, the
Ordinary of the county, the Sheriff, an ex-judge, and several other men
of prominence, and yet in the eyes of the younger spectators John Trott,
who was to place and seal the stone, and stood with a new trowel in his
hand, was the most envied person there. He was well dressed,
good-looking, possessed with a forceful demeanor, and it was rumored
that he was a mason who could demand any wages he liked. It was little
wonder that poor young farmers who lived from hand to mouth to eke out
an existence should deem him most fortunat