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88 THESE THREE." then the house was left desolate till new owners should come. There had been crowds to see the funeral, of *course. Curiosity and respectmingle on such occasions, and people peered through the gate or wandered about the grounds. At last came one who stood gazing till he could see nothing for tears. He looked up at the empty house where he once had friends to bid him welcome, then down at the green pathway to the grave over which they had passed for ever, and then through the trees to the church beyond: and then he took out his tablets and wrote. It is very odd. Though I believe he wrote a poem, I cannot recall the words. But the title at the top I see before me yet. It was the same the girl had written under the sketch: "Life in Death." Only after it, as the poet sat dreaming, he traced four capital letters, and these were not the same as had been written on the sketch, for the four letters spelt Hope." "By your leave," whispered the Moss once more.