broke,) he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay."
With a motion of the head, he signalled Newbigging to begin filling in the grave. As the earth was cast upon the lid of the coffin only broken phrases were audible—"to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed"—"dust to dust"—"according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself." The mighty working! He could read no more, but stood motionless and silent as Newbigging finished his work.
Unconsciously his eyes followed the movements of a woman whose figure was outlined against the sky as she slowly made her way along the undulations of the bluffs. Slowly she descended the steep and came to the bridge. She stood leaning over the rail a moment looking down into the tumbling stream below, before she proceeded. Her progression was heavy as though she were tired or weak, but still she drew nearer and nearer.
Newbigging was laying the green sod in place as she turned in at the gate. He sat up on his heels and stared at the approaching figure, then he raised his startled eyes to Derek's face. Mrs. Machin after one long bitter look turned and walked back to the house.
Jock crawled to the end of the chain by which he had been fastened to a tree and lifted his lip in deprecating welcome. Fawnie went to the two men and stood between them looking down at the grave.
"What little grave is this?" she asked slowly, with a catch in her voice.
"It's the wee lad's," replied Newbigging. "He died yesterday." He went on carefully replacing the sod.
Fawnie watched in silence a space as though fascinated by the movements of his hands. Then she said, "Couldn't
