was no longer the old-time harshness of the desert air, the sky
was bluer, the sunlight softer. There was nothing that whispered of
death, save the bronze tablet; even this spoke not so much of death as
of triumph over it.

By the side of the grave stood a woman clad in somber black. Her robes
were out of harmony with the inscription, the blossoming landscape; out
of harmony with the soft, patient eyes, the rounded, tinted cheeks, the
fluffy masses of tawny hair. Not a line, not a wrinkle, not a gray
thread told that the heart of Amy Berl was lying with her husband
beneath the guarding bronze.

A tall, earnest faced boy was coming down the path, trying to preserve a
dignified walk that was yet pulled into abrupt steps by a dancing,
laughing girl who tugged at his outstretched arm.

"Mama," she cried, "Uncle Sid is waiting for you."

Amy slowly turned her eyes to the child, as if with an effort, then
moved up the path. The boy was by his mother's side, walking evenly with
her. The girl was dancing and skipping, now before them, now behind,
dragging her mother to admire a new-blown rose, then starting off in
vain chase of a rainbow-tinted lizard that skittered up a tree trunk,
and, having reached a safe height, turned calmly and curiously towards
its pursuer, and with palpitating throat and lazily blinking eyes,
composed itself to rest.

Where the path opened out to the palm-bordered drive-way, the child
abandoned her companions and, with a merry shout, clambered into the
carriage with Uncle Sid. Before he was aware of her purpose, she had
clutched the lines from his fingers and had snapped the drowsy horses
into action. Uncle Sid regained his balance with difficulty.

"You pesky little jack-rabbit, you!" he growled. "Anybody'd know who
your father was, with his eyes shut!"

Uncle Sid brought the horses to a halt and turned to Amy.

"You don't know of no orphan asylum nor no reform school, do you, where
a respectable, steady-minded old sea captain could end his days in
peace? Because if you do, I'm goin' to apply at once, if it takes me out
of California. I'm gettin' used up. If Ralph jr. ain't got the colic
an's a howlin' over it, he's cheerful, which is worse, an' when he does
get to sleep, then Ralph an' Helen tackles the job right where he left
off."

"You know you're always welcome here, Uncle Sid." Amy smiled at the old
face that seemed to get no older in spite of his complaints.

"Yes," growled Uncle S