en space on the hillside. "There is a gate in the
wall!" she called out; "it seems to be some sort of enclosure. Lewis,
help me to open the gate! Hurry! What a queer place! What do you suppose
it is?"

The gate opened into a little field bounded by a stone wall; the grass
had been lately mowed, and the stubble, glistening with dew, showed
the curving swaths of the scythe; across it, in even lines from wall to
wall, were rows of small stakes painted black. Here and there were faint
depressions, low, green cradles in the grass; each depression was
marked at the head and foot by these iron stakes, hardly higher than the
stubble itself.

"Shakers' graveyard, I guess," Lewis said; "I've heard that they don't
use gravestones. Peaceful place, isn't it?"

Her vivid face was instantly grave. "Very peaceful! Oh," she added, as
they sat down in the shadow of a pine, "don't you sometimes want to lie
down and sleep--deep down in the grass and flowers?"

"Well," he confessed, "I don't believe it would be as interesting as
walking round on top of them."

She looked at him in despair.

"Come, now," he defended himself, "you don't take much to peace yourself
at home."

"You don't understand!" she said, passionately.

"There, there, little Tay," he said, smiling, and putting a soothing
hand on hers; "I guess I do--after a fashion."

It was very still; below them the valley had suddenly brimmed with
sunshine that flickered and twinkled on the birch leaves or shimmered
on sombre stretches of pine and spruce. Close at hand, pennyroyal grew
thick in the shadow of the wall; and just beyond, mullen candles cast
slender bars of shade across the grass. The sunken graves and the lines
of iron markers lay before them.

"How quiet it is!" she said, in a whisper.

"I guess I'll smoke," Lewis said, and scratched a match on his trousers.

"How can you!" she protested; "it is profane!"

He gave her an amused look, but lighted his cigar and smoked dreamily
for a minute; then he drew a long breath. "I was pretty tired," he said,
and turned to glance back at the road. A horse and cart were coming
in at the open gate; the elderly driver, singing to himself, drew up
abruptly at the sight of the two under the pine-tree, then drove toward
them, the wheels of the cart jolting cheerfully over the cradling
graves. He had a sickle in his hand, and as he clambered down from the
seat, he said, with friendly curiosity:

"You folks are out early, fo