going to make a telephone; if I could make one long enough--" he
paused.

They were strolling up the wide, cypress-bordered path as they
talked, and Mollie's wandering gaze fell upon a low mound at the
foot of one of the cypress trees.

"What's that?" she asked, coming to a standstill. "It looks like a
cat's grave."

It was a grave sure enough, and crowned with a bunch of pansies. A
small headstone had been made from the lid of an old soapbox, on
which was printed the following inscription:

HERE LITH
THE
LONGEST
DANDY LION CHANE
IN
THE WURLD

"It's Grizzel," said Prudence; "why on earth has she gone and buried
her beautiful chain?"

Grizzel joined the group and answered for herself:

"Mollie said the poor flowers would be forgotten. I should hate to
be forgotten, so I lifted them all up and buried them. I bought a
yard of lovely yellow muslin when I was out yesterday and made a
beautiful shroud. That cypress tree is rather big for such a little