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It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. When Mr. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. “‘A SONG OF LADIES AND MY LADY “‘Saintly white and a lily is Mary, Margaret’s violets, sweet and shy; Green and dewy is Nellie-bud fairy, Forget-me-nots live in Gwendolen’s eye. I am altogether a person of a disposition extremely interfering, as you have so often told me. "He is gone!" cried Mrs. She replied softly. From first to last, on this occasion, her aunt expostulated for about two hours. She remained on guard.

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