hand on hers; "I guess I do--after a fashion."

It was very still; below them the valley had suddenly brimmed
with sunshine that flickered and twinkled on the birch leaves
or shimmered on sombre stretches of pine and spruce. Close at hand,
pennyroyal grew thick in the shadow of the wall; and just beyond,
mullen candles cast slender bars of shade across the grass.
The sunken graves and the lines of iron markers lay before them.

"How quiet it is!" she said, in a whisper.

"I guess I'll smoke," Lewis said, and scratched a match on his trousers.

"How can you!" she protested; "it is profane!"

He gave her an amused look, but lighted his cigar and smoked dreamily
for a minute; then he drew a long breath. "I was pretty tired," he said,
and turned to glance back at the road. A horse and cart were coming in at
the open gate; the elderly driver, singing to himself, drew up abruptly
at the sight of the two under the pine-tree, then drove toward them,
the wheels of the cart jolting cheerfully over the cradling graves.
He had a sickle in his hand, and as he clambered down from the seat,
he said, with friendly curiosity:

"You folks are out early, for the world's people."

"Is this a graveyard?" Athalia demanded, impetuously.

"Yee," he said, smiling; "it's our burial-place; we're Shakers."