top it was easier going. The matted beach grass made a firm turf. She
stopped and read the names on some of the slabs before she plucked up
courage to touch one. She would not have hesitated an instant if only
Richard had not dared her in that scary way.

Some little, wild creature started up out of the grass ahead of her and
scurried away. Her heart beat so fast she could hear the blood pounding
against her ear-drums. She looked back. Richard was watching, and she was
to wave her hand each time she touched a stone so that he could keep
count with her. She stooped and peered at one, trying to read the
inscription. The clouds had hurried the coming of twilight. It was hard
to decipher the words.

"None knew him but to love him," she read slowly. Instantly her dread of
the place vanished. She laid her hand on the stone and then waved to
Richard. Then she ran on and read and touched another. "Lost at sea,"
that one said, and under the next slabs slept "Deliverance" and
"Experience," "Mercy," and "Thankful." What queer names people had in
those early days! And what strange pictures they etched in the stone of
those old gray slabs--urns and angels and weeping willows!

She signaled the tenth and last. Richard wondered why she did not turn
and come back. At the highest point of the hill she stood as if
transfixed, a slim little silhouette against the darkening sky, her hands
clasped in amazement. Suddenly she turned and came tearing down the hill,
floundering through sand, falling and picking herself up, only to
flounder and fall again, finally rolling down the last few yards of the
embankment.

"What scared you?" asked Richard, his eyes big with excitement as he