ly vowed that he himself
would be a doctor sometime. Still, there was the stage-driver--David
was not sure but he would prefer to follow this man's profession for a
life-work; for in his, one could still have the freedom of long days in
the open, and yet not be saddened by the sight of the sick before they
had been made well--which was where the stage-driver had the better of
the doctor, in David's opinion. There were the blacksmith and the
storekeepers, too, but to these David gave little thought or attention.

Though he might not know what he did want to do, he knew very well what
he did not. All of which merely goes to prove that David was still on
the lookout for that great work which his father had said was waiting
for him out in the world.

Meanwhile David played his violin. If he found a crimson rambler in
bloom in a door-yard, he put it into a little melody of pure
delight--that a woman in the house behind the rambler heard the music
and was cheered at her task, David did not know. If he found a kitten
at play in the sunshine, he put it into a riotous abandonment of
tumbling turns and trills--that a fretful baby heard and stopped its
wailing, David also did not know. And once, just because the sky was
blue and the air was sweet, and it was so good to be alive, David
lifted his bow and put it all into a rapturous paean of ringing
exultation--that a sick man in a darkened chamber above the street
lifted his head, drew in his breath, and took suddenly a new lease of
life, David still again did not know. All of which merely goes to prove
that David had perhaps found his work and was doing it--although yet
still again David did not know.

It was in the cemetery one afternoon that David came upon the Lady in
Black. She was on her knees putting flowers on a little mound before
her. She looked up as David approached. For a moment she gazed
wistfully at him; then as if impelled by a hidden force, she spoke.

"Little boy, who are you?"

"I'm David."

"David! David who? Do you live here? I've seen you here before."

"Oh, yes, I've been here quite a lot of times." Purposely the boy
evaded the questions. David was getting tired of questions--especially
these questions.

"And have you--lost one dear to you, little boy?"

"Lost some one?"

"I mean--is your father or mother--here?"

"Here? Oh, no, they aren't here. My mother is an angel-mother,
and my father has gone to the far country. He is waiting for me there