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hours it was in complete order. Neighbors brought food for the children. It appeased their grief, and made all silent but Denny, whose tears fell on the cookie he ate.
    The old crone, from whose house Sally had telephoned, surveyed the scene, her clay pipe still in a withered hand. To her ancient husband, for fifty-two years a railroad laborer, she said, “Poor soul—she had to die to get her house clean.”
    Red Moll was now the general for detail around whom the pathetic army of the Blairs found comfort for their loss.
    She seemed no more the sister of Blair than Leora seemed his daughter.
    Each soldier in the little army of poverty had his task to do. When Denny asked if his runaway brother was coming to the funeral, his aunt leaned over and talked to him quietly.
    He asked no more.
    When the funeral was over the children did not know which one they missed more—Red Moll—or the woman in the new-made grave.
    Sally took charge of the house. Leora returned to work. She would spend but little time at home unless Red Moll was there.
    Two weeks had hardly passed when a monument salesman called on her at the doctor’s office.
    He had, he explained to her, stones of rare materials that would last forever. People hundreds of years in the future would still remember her mother if a stone of proper material were placed over her grave.
    She bought a small stone for fifty dollars—five dollars down, and five each month. After it had been placed on the grave, with her mother’s name and age chiseled upon it, the entire family went out to see it.
    Like millions who had gone before them, who had lived so much in the present, and now at last were dust, not even Leora realized at the moment that in a few generations at most her mother’s name would be forgotten in the town.
    She was apprised of the fact when she went to her aunt’s home. “It’s a lot of hocus-pocus—why didn’t you put a geranium on her grave and let it go at that?”
    And Leora answered, “I wish I had now.”
    Red Moll was Leora’s only real comfort in the town. Like a bird that felt the itch of its wings—she wanted to go elsewhere—anywhere—to join Alice.
    When she mentioned leaving to her aunt, she said— ”Why don’t you—there’s nothing here for you but a lot of men who’ll never get their houses paid for—Dr. Haley’s rich—and so’s Farway—but they’re hooked up —if you ever come back you may like the place better, or worse—and either way—it don’t matter—we all have to live some place—and this is as good as any—for here you’ve got the river, the woods, and the sky.”
    Leora remembered.
    She made a final decision when Dr. Haley’s wife caught him caressing her. Mrs. Haley came to the office the next afternoon while the doctor was making calls.
    An immense woman, her vanity was larger than herself.
    “You are quite young,” she said to Leora, “Perhaps you would like to see the world.”
    Leora knew what she meant and asked, “On what?”
    “Perhaps money—I do not wish to be embarrassed here where I have lived so long—and Dr. Haley is so well known and highly respected.” The heavy woman paused. “As you will learn, no doubt, in time, men at a certain age become very silly— You really do not care for him, and he is all I have. I’ll give you five hundred dollars if you leave the city.”
    Leora’s heart jumped, but she asked, “Will that cure the doctor?”
    Mrs. Haley’s pillowy bosom sank in a sigh. “Perhaps not,” was the answer, “but I’ll see that a much more elderly and homelier woman becomes his office girl.” She half smiled. “It’s rather difficult for the doctor to give a correct diagnosis with such a pretty girl as yourself around.”
    Leora remained indifferent. Mrs. Haley became anxious.
    “I’d go to the end of the world if I were as beautiful and as young as you,” said Mrs. Haley. “What can you possibly find here? If I could change places with you, I’d go