The marble slab stood upright, an iron railing marked the limits
of the ground purchased, and the earth was covered with white
camellias. "What do you say to that?" said the gardener.

"It is beautiful."

"And whenever a camellia fades, I have orders to replace it."

"Who gave you the order?"

"A young gentleman, who cried the first time he came here; an old
pal of hers, I suppose, for they say she was a gay one. Very
pretty, too, I believe. Did you know her, sir?" "Yes."

"Like the other?" said the gardener, with a knowing smile. "No, I
never spoke to her."

"And you come here, too! It is very good of you, for those that
come to see the poor girl don't exactly cumber the cemetery."

"Doesn't anybody come?"

"Nobody, except that young gentleman who came once."

"Only once?"

"Yes, sir."

"He never came back again?"