the soldiers' monument.

"We sold the old buildin' to the Catholics, and they moved it down ont' the
side street."

Miss Kilburn caught the glimmer of a cross where he beckoned, through the
flutter of the foliage.

"They had to razee the steeple some to git their cross on," he added;
and then he showed her the high-school building as they passed, and the
Episcopal chapel, of blameless church-warden's Gothic, half hidden by its
Japanese ivy, under a branching elm, on another side street.

"Yes," she said, "that was built before we went abroad."

"I disremember," he said absently. He let the horses walk on the soft,
darkly shaded road, where the wheels made a pleasant grinding sound, and
set himself sidewise on his front seat, so as to talk to Miss Kilburn more
at his ease.

"I d'know," he began, after clearing his throat, with a conscious air, "as
you know we'd got a new minister to our church."

"No, I hadn't heard of it," said Miss Kilburn, with her mind full of the
monument still. "But I might have heard and forgotten it," she added. "I
was very much taken up toward the last before I left Rome."

"Well, come to think," said Bolton; "I don't know's you'd had time to
heard. He hain't been here a great while."