ing for you two ladies to move; I would have come on
with Mr. Fleming. I am extremely sorry," said the Professor.

He followed Lady Engleton down the path between the graves, with
something of the same set expression that had been on his face when he
came up the path of the cottage garden to admire the baby.

"It appears that we were all waiting for each other," said Lady
Engleton.

"This 'ere's the young woman's grave, sir--Ellen Jervis--'er as I was a
tellin' you of," said Dodge, pointing an earth-stained finger at the
mound.

"Oh, yes; very nice," said the Professor vaguely. Hadria's laugh
disconcerted him. "I mean--pretty spot--well chosen--well made."

Hadria continued to laugh. "I never heard less skilled comment on a
grave!" she exclaimed. "It might be a pagoda!"

"It's not so easy as you seem to imagine to find distinctive epithets. I
challenge you. Begin with the pagoda."

"One of the first canons of criticism is never to attempt the feat
yourself; jeer rather at others."

"The children don't like the new schoolmarm near so well as this 'un,"
observed Dodge, touching the grave with his broom. "Lord, it was an
unfort'nate thing, for there wasn't a better girl nor she were in all
Craddock (as I was a tellin' of you, sir), not when she fust come as
pupil teacher. It was all along of her havin' no friends, and her mother
far away. She used to say to me at times of an afternoon wen she was a
passin' through the churchyard--'Dodge,' says she, 'do you know I have
no one to care for, or to care for me, in all the world?' I used to
comfort her like, and say as there was plenty in Craddock as cared for
her, but she always shook her head, sort o' sad."

"Poor thing!" Lady Engleton exclaimed.

"And one mornin' a good time after, I found her a cryin' bitter, just
there by her own grave, much about where the gentleman 'as his foot at
this moment" (the Professor quickly withdrew it). "It was in the dusk o'
the evenin', and she was a settin' on the rail of old Squire Jordan's
grave, jes' where you are now, sir. We were sort o' friendly, and wen I
heard 'er a taking on so bad, I jes' went and stood alongside, and I
sez, 'Wy Ellen Jervis,' I sez, 'wot be you a cryin' for?' But she kep'
on sobbin' and wouldn't answer nothin'. So I waited, and jes' went on
with my work a bit, and then I sez again, 'Ellen Jervis, wot be you a
cryin' for?' And then she took her hands from her face and she sez,
'Because I am that miserabl