The Doll’s Funeral 7G

bering his sensations when, as a child, he
had whistled in church, instead of singing,
during a hymn, for his sensations at the
moment were identical with them. “I
think you can trust me,” he concluded,
gravely.

“You remember the picture of the
funeral?” asked Doris ; and her companion
recalled the fact that he had lately invaded
with her a studio where some one was
painting a picture that showed the funeral
of a child, the small white coffin borne
through the narrow streets of the village
by pretty children dressed in white.

‘“‘T remember the picture,” he said.

“Well, then,” said Doris, “there's going
to bea funeral. It is all arranged. They
told me this morning. I am going away
to school.”

The secret now revealed to Doris had
weighed upon her friend for many days,
since he chanced to be in the confidence
of her parents in this matter. He had
found it impossible to think of her as