The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-10-28
CHAPTER XIX.

It was all strange and bewiIdering, thought Peter. It was not like any thoughts with AIix, yet it was all for her.
 The day was warm and still, and bhe little church was packed with flowers and packed with people. Wo- men were crying and men were cry ing, too, rather to his dazed surprise. The organ was straining through the warm, fragrant air, and the old clergy man, whose venerable, leonine head, in it's crown of snowy hair, Peter could see clearly, spoke in a, voice that was thickened with tears. Stra ngers, or almost strangers, had been touching Peters hand respectfully, timidly, had been praising Alix. She had been "good'' to this one. good" to that one, they told him; she had always been so 'interested' and so happy
 Her coffin was buried in flowers, many Of them the plain flowers she loved, the lilies and stock and yer bena, and even the sweet, sober wall flowers that were somehow like her self. But it was the roses that scent ed the whole world for AliX today, and fresh creamy buds had been placed between the waxen fingers. And still that radiant look of triumphan love fingered on her quiet face, and still the faint ghost of a smile touched the once kindly and merry mouth.
 They said good-by to her at the church. the villagers and old friends who Tad loved her and Peter and two or three men alone followed her down along the winding road that led to the old cemetery, Cherry was hanging over the bedside of her hus- band, who still niraculOusly fingered through hours of pain, but as Peter, responsive to a touch on his arm, crossed the church porch to blindly enter the waiting motor car, he saw erect and grave, on the front seat, in his recent holiday black; and with T.s A. claiming his right to stand beside the grave of the mistress he had loved and served so faithfully The sight of him. in his clumsy black, instead of the usual crisp white. and with a. sad and tear-stained face shook Peter strangely, but he did not show a sign of pain.
 The twisted low branches of oak trees threw shadows on the grave when they finally reached it, and sheep were cropping the watered grass of the graveyard. The soft autumn sky, the drift of snowy clouds across the blue. the clear shadows on brown grass under the oaks, all these were familiar. But Peter still looked dazed- 1y at his black cuff and at the turned earth next to the doctors headstone telling himself again that this was for Alix. How often he had seen her sit ting here, with her bright face sobered and sweet, as she talked lovingly eagerly of her fatherl They had of tSh cOiiS ASIS, iSlSE lIlS I4lOro Wiling ly because she was so sensible and happy about it; she would pack lunch button herself into one of the crisp blue gingharns, chatter on the road in her usual fashion And if, for a few moments, the train of memory fired by the sight of the old doctors grave became too poignant and tears came, she always scolded herself with that mixture of childish and maternal i'm mpatience that was so chara ct eristic of her. and that Peter had seen her use to this very father years ago!
 fContinued Tomorrow
 Mrs. Mary Stackpole. physical di- rector at the Y w. C. A has an nounced that no field hockey class will be formed until the spring.