The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1912-04-29

CHAPTER XVIII.
Continued.

Redmond. She didn't go to bed until
she'd had prayers beside the young
mans bed. with Mr.. Hand present.
had to wait with the coffee. And
guess Mr.. Hand amt very much used
TO our ways. for when Aunt Susan
had made a prayer. Mr.. Hand said
yes, ma'am!' instead OF Amen"
There was a mixture of disappro-
baton and grim humor which did not
escape Agatha. She was again be-
guiled into smile, though Sallie re-
NAMED grave as a tombstone.
mr. Hand will learn" said Agatha:
and was about to add Like the rest
OF u.s." but thought better of II. Sal
lie took up her tale.
"Mr Van Camp and his friend came
in just after I'd put you to bed, Miss
Redmond, and ate a bit of breakfast
right offer that table: and twas q
mercy I'd cleared all the kulch outer
the attic, as l did last week. for Mr.
Van Camp he wanted place to sleep;
and he's up there -ne~,-psed to be a
whole lot er the parsons books up
there; but | put them on shelf in
the spare room. The other man went
or toward the village"
Agatha, looking about the pleasant
kitchen, was tempted to linger. Sal
lies conversation yielded, to the dis
corning, something OF the rich essence
of the past; and Agatha began to
yearn for a better knowledge of the
recluse who had been her friend, I'M
known, through all the years. But
she remembered her industrious plans
for the day and postponed her talk
with Sallie.
II remember there used to be a
grove, a stretch OF wood, somewhere
beyond the church, Sallie. Which
way Is it-along the path that goes
through the churchyard?"
mo, this way; right back er the
yard. Parson Thayer he used to walk
that way quite often" Sallie went
with Agatha to another stile beyond
the churchyard. and pointed over the
pasture to a fringe OF dark trees
along the farther border. Right
there by that apple tree. the path is.
But don't go far. Miss Redmond; the
woods Amt healthy"
"All right. Sallie: thank You. I'll
not stay long" She called Danny
and started out through the pasture,
| with the hound, sober and dignified
and happy, at her heels.
| The wood was cool and dim, with
an uneven wagon road winding in and
out between stumps. Enormous sug
arSmaples reared their forms here and
there; occasionally a 1.-THE birch lifted
a tossing head; and, farther within
| pines shot their straight trunks, ar.
! row-like, up to the canopy above.
II Farther along, the road widened
into little clearing, beyond which
the birch and maple trees gave place
entirely to pines and hemlocks. The
underbrush disappeared, and brown
carpet OF needles and cones spread
far under the shade. The leafy rustic
OF the deciduous trees ceased, and
majestic stiffness, deeper than
thought, pervaded the place. At the
clearing just within this deeper wood
] Agatha paused. sat down on stone
and took Danny's head in her lap
The dog looked up into her face with
the wistful, melancholy gaze OF dis
kind, inarticulate yet eloquent
The sun was nearly at zenith, and
bright fecks OF light lay here and
there over the brown earth. Az
Agatha grew accustomed to the shade
1t seemed pleasant and not at all un
cheerful-the gaiety of sunlight sub
dued only to softer tone. The res
olution which had brought her thith
err returned. She stood up under the
dome OF pines and began softly &c
sing, trying her voice first In single
tones, then a scale or two, trill. Al
first her voice was not clear, but as
she continued It emerged from Its
sheath of huskiness clear and flute
like, and liquid as the notes OF the
thrushes that inhabited the wood
The pleasure OF the exercise grew
and presently, warbling her songs
there In the otherwise silent forest
Agatha became conscious Of strange
accompaniment Pausing moment
. she perceived that the grove was
. vocal with tone long after her voice
had ceased. 1t was not exactly an
echo, but a slowly receding reso
nance, faint Implications and multipli
cations OF her voice, gently floating
, into the thickness Of the forest.
, Charmed, like child who discov
ers some curious phenomenon OF ma
ture, Agatha tried her voice again ant
. again. listening, between whites, u
the ghostly tones reverberating amont
the pines. She sang the slow maJes