can see how lonely he looks among those
little twisted pines that grow from the rock.
And he will be remembering all the evenings
we walked there together, and all the things
we said." I did not answer. Her eyes
were still on the sea.

"What was the name of the man who
wrote that verse you just said to me?"

I told her.

"And he is dead? Did they bury him
in the mountains? No? I wish I could
have put him where he could have heard
those four voices calling down the canyon."

"Come back in the house," I said; "you
must come, indeed," I said, as she shrank
from re-entering.

Jessica was dancing like a fairy with Le-
roy. They both saw us and smiled as we
came in, and a moment later they joined us.
I made my excuses and left my friends to
Jessica's care. She was a sort of social
tyrant wherever she was, and I knew one
word from her would insure the popularity
of our friends -- not that they needed the
intervention of any one. Leroy had been