Tesney fell asleep. After several hours she was awakened by the crying of her baby. It was night. She took the baby in her arms and stole softly out of the house in her bare feet. She went straight to George's grave and sat down upon it. "Little rascal," said she to the baby, "your father is in the ground and can't steal me any more. Agnes can't follow me. You must not be a big George. How you are growing! Stop! I'll hold your legs and arms. Stop! You won't? You must!" She dug a hole in the top of the grave with her hands. She placed the baby in it, and covered it as well as she could. She then sat on a stump nearby and said not a word for several minutes. Tesney, sitting there, paid no heed to the rising wind, nor the distant flash of the lightning. Presently it thundered. She arose, put her hand to her ear, like one at a telephone, and waited. It thundered again. She leaned to listen. There was more lightning. "My name?" asked she. "It is Tesney." There were renewed thunder and lightning. "My baby?" asked she. "I sent it up. Is it there?" Again it thundered, again the lightning flashed. "It is not there?" she asked. "I must come with it? All right! Welcome!" She ran to the grave and uncovered the baby. It kicked feebly and gave a faint cry. "I knew you were still here," she said. "The Voice of the Clouds said so." A terrible storm was breaking. "Listen, little rascal: We go together. Listen! The Voice is coming. We go! We go!" These were her last words. She embraced the baby and sat calmly down upon the grave amid the raging elements. The storm's fury lasted an hour or more. The next morning Tesney and the baby were lying dead on George's grave. Agnes had Tesney and the baby buried in the same grave with George. After ten years of terrible mental and bodily suffering Agnes died. A certain part of each day during this time she spent looking at Tesney's ring and praying aloud. Some said that her intense agony and earnest prayer thoroughly purged her soul of guilt. Others said not so. God knows. REGNAN'S ANNIVERSARY "I'll be up afore day to-morrow morning, Regnan." "I'll sleep an hour longer, Kitty." "That may bring bad luck, Regnan. Remember Nordad, the tinker." "He mended a pot and married a woman the same hour." "That was well enough. He always had a bit of bacon for the pot and a faithful wife." "What of his bad luck, Kitty?" "He fell asleep on the day of his anniversary, was kidnapped, gagged and locked up in his garret. On payment of a neat little sum his wife was informed where he was, just in time for the ceremony." "Anything may befall me, Kitty, just so we stand before the preacher again to-morrow night." Thus spoke Regnan and Kitty, his wife, the night before their twenty-fifth anniversary. Kitty arose early the next morning, fed Posey, the mare, chatted with a neighbor, and returned to find Regnan still snoring. "Regnan," cried she, "will you remember Nordad, the tinker?"