should soon become as gods.

It was a mild evening in the latter end of October when Mr. Fraser
started on his walk. The moon was up in the heavens as he, an hour
later, made his way from the side of the lake, where he had been
wandering, back to the churchyard through which he had to pass to
reach the vicarage. Just before he came to the gate, however, he was
surprised, in such a solitary spot, to see a slight figure leaning
against the wall opposite the place where lay the mortal remains of
the old squire and his daughter-in-law, Hilda. He stood still and
watched; the figure appeared to be gazing steadily at the graves.
Presently it turned and saw him, and he recognized the great grey eyes
and golden hair of little Angela Caresfoot.

"Angela, my dear, what are you doing here at this time of night?" he
asked, in some surprise.

She blushed a little as she shook hands rather awkwardly with him.

"Don't be angry with me," she said in a deprecatory voice; "but I was
so lonely this evening that I came here for company."

"Came here for company! What do you mean?"

She hung her head.

"Come," he said, "tell me what you mean."

"I don't quite know myself. How can I tell you?"