"A very good epitaph," commented Anne thoughtfully. "I wouldn't wish a
better. We are all servants of some sort, and if the fact that we are
faithful can be truthfully inscribed on our tombstones nothing more need
be added. Here's a sorrowful little gray stone, Prissy--'to the memory
of a favorite child.' And here is another 'erected to the memory of one
who is buried elsewhere.' I wonder where that unknown grave is. Really,
Pris, the graveyards of today will never be as interesting as this. You
were right--I shall come here often. I love it already. I see we're not
alone here--there's a girl down at the end of this avenue."

"Yes, and I believe it's the very girl we saw at Redmond this morning.
I've been watching her for five minutes. She has started to come up the
avenue exactly half a dozen times, and half a dozen times has she turned
and gone back. Either she's dreadfully shy or she has got something on
her conscience. Let's go and meet her. It's easier to get acquainted in
a graveyard than at Redmond, I believe."

They walked down the long grassy arcade towards the stranger, who was
sitting on a gray slab under an enormous willow. She was certainly very
pretty, with a vivid, irregular, bewitching type of prettiness. There
was a gloss as of brown nuts on her satin-smooth hair and a soft, ripe
glow on her round cheeks. Her eyes were big and brown and velvety, under
oddly-pointed black brows, and her crooked mouth was rose-red. She
wore a smart brown suit, with two very modish little shoes peeping from
beneath it; and her hat of dull pink straw, wreathed with golden-brown
poppies, had the indefinable, unmistakable air which pertains to the
"creation" of an artist in millinery. Priscilla had a sudden stinging
consciousness that her own hat had been trimmed by her village store
milliner, and Anne wondered uncomfortably if the blouse she had made
herself, and which Mrs. Lynde had fitted, looked VERY countrified and
home-made besides the stranger's smart attire. For a moment both girls
felt like turning back.

But they had already stopped and turned towards the gray slab. It was
too late to retreat, for the brown-eyed girl had evidently concluded
that they were coming to speak to her. Instantly she sprang up and came
forward with outstretched hand and a gay, friendly smile in which there
seemed not a shadow of either shyness or burdened conscience.

"Oh, I want to know who you two girls are," she exclaimed eagerly. "I'v