see about it to-morrow. I will go over there with you myself
to-morrow morning. I think the police ought not to protect the
criminals, but the people who are injured by them."

"Then there would be no criminals. They would have no chance," said
Sylvia, sagely. "Yes, I agree with you, Henry, there ought to be a
consultation."

She looked at Henry and he at her, and each saw in the other's face
that same ignoble joy, and that same resentment and denial of it.

Neither slept that night. They were up early the next morning. Sylvia
was getting breakfast and Henry was splitting wood out in the yard.
Presently he came stumbling in. "Come out here," he said. Sylvia
followed him to the door. They stepped out in the dewy yard and stood
listening. Beneath their feet was soft, green grass strewn with tiny
spheres which reflected rainbows. Over their heads was a wonderful
sky of the clearest angelic blue. This sky seemed to sing with
bell-notes.

"The bell is tolling," whispered Henry. They counted from that
instant. When the bell stopped they looked at each other.

"That's her age," said Sylvia.

"Yes," said Henry.



Chapter III