“Have you seen so hard times that this place should seem so desirable?” “Not hard in one sense,” Edna said. “Almost everybody has been kind to me; but—” she hesitated a moment, and Mrs. Churchill added: “Yes, Maude told me you had lost all your nearest relatives; was in black for your father, I think; but you have laid off mourning, I imagine, from the color of your travelling suit; and I am glad, for I would rather have you in bright colors. I am sure they suit you better,” she said, laying her hand again on Edna’s shoulder, and asking if she cared to dress for lunch; “because if you do not, there is no necessity, as Roy lunches at Oakwood. He will be home to dinner, and some of the young people may come with him.” This brought to light the fact that Edna’s trunk was still at the station, whither Mrs. Churchill immediately dispatched a servant for it; then leaving Edna alone for a time, she bade her rest, and amuse herself in any way she liked until lunch was ready. It was a very delicate lunch, and served in the prettiest of rooms, where the French windows opened upon a raised bed of bright flowers, whose perfume filled the room, as did the delicious air of that soft September day; and Mrs. Churchill was very kind and attentive to the young girl sitting opposite her, and wondering if it could be herself, there at last at Leighton Place, with only Charlie’s monument shining through the distant evergreens to remind her that she was not the Miss Overton she professed to be. They went out to the grave that afternoon. It was a habit of Mrs. Churchill’s to visit it every day, and she asked Edna to accompany her, and leaned upon her as she went, and began talking to her of her poor boy, who was killed. It would be difficult to tell just what Edna’s emotions were as she stood by Charlie’s grave, and read his name and age, cut deep into the marble. Mrs. Churchill had taken a seat on an iron chair which stood near by, and freed from her, Edna leaned heavily against the monument, and felt for a moment as if she was suffocating. But she never lost a word of what Mrs. Churchill was saying of her boy, or failed to observe how sedulously any mention of Charlie’s wife was at first avoided. After a little, however, Mrs. Churchill said: “As you are to be one of the family, you cannot avoid hearing Roy or some one speak of it, and I may as well tell you that Charlie left a wife,—a young girl, to whom he had been married that very day. Edna was her name; and they tell me she was pretty. I never saw her but once, and then scarcely noticed her. We don’t know where she is. Roy cannot find her. She is teaching school, and keeps her place of residence a secret from us.” “You must be sorry for that,” Edna replied. “It would be so pleasant to have her with you,—a daughter is better than a stranger.”