lance
when Norman reached out and fingered a fold of her white dress. Both the
boys liked to see her in white, and never failed to comment on it
admiringly when she put it on to please them.

All afternoon they stayed out-doors, part of the time reading aloud in
turn; and that evening in the afterglow, when the western mountain tops
were turning from gold to rose and pearl and purple, they sat out on the
front porch watching the glory fade, and ending the day with Jack's
favorite song, "Pilgrims of the Night."

And the reason that this day stood out so vividly from all the others in
her life was because it was the last day that they had their mother with
them. That night the old pain came again, just for an instant, but long
enough to stop the beating of the brave heart which would never feel its
clutch again.

There are some pages in every one's life better skipped than read. What
those next few hours brought to Mary and the boys can never be told.
She found herself in her own room, after awhile, lying across the foot
of her bed and trying to thrust away from her the awful truth that was
gradually forcing itself upon her consciousness. Dazed and bewildered,
like one who has just had a heavy blow on the head, she could not adjust
herself to the new conditions. She could not imagine an existence in
which her mother had no part. She wondered dully how it would be
possible to go on living without her. Aunt Sally Doane came in presently
and took her in her arms and said the comforting things people usually
say at such times, and Mary submitted dumbly, as if it were a part of a
bewildering dream. At times she was sure that she must wake up presently
and find that she had been in the grip of a dreadful nightmare. It was
that certainty which helped her through the next few hours.

It helped her to a strange calmness when Jack came in to ask her about
the trip to Plainsville. She was the one to decide that he must go alone
to the quiet little God's Acre at their old home, because Norman's foot
would not allow him to travel, and she could not leave him behind with
just the neighbors at such a time. It was the sound of Norman's sobbing
in the next room which made her decide this, and yet at the same time
she was thinking, "This is one of the most vivid dreams I ever had in my
whole life, and the most horrible."

Hours after, when all the neighbors had gone but Aunt Sally and the old
Captain, who stayed to keep faithful vigil