go home now: you have done all you could. Doctor McCall will go with
you?"

"No, I shall go alone: I came alone."

"He will follow you home to Berrytown, then?" for the chaplain was but
a man, and his curiosity was roused to know the exact relation between
McCall and this old-fashioned, lovable girl.

Kitty hesitated: "I think he will come to Berrytown again. There is
some business there which his wife's death will leave him free now to
attend to."

She went to a sofa and sat down: "I shall be glad to be at home,"
beginning to cry. "I want to see father."

"Broke down utterly," the chaplain told his wife, "as soon as her
terrible work was done."

As for Kitty, it seemed to her that her work in life and death was
over for ever.

"You must come back," she said when McCall put her in the cars,
looking like a ghost of herself. "Your father will be wanting to see
you. And--and Maria."

"Maria? What the deuce is Maria to me?"

It was no ghost of Kitty that came home that evening. The shy, lively
color came and went unceasingly, and her eyes sparkled.