” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. I had to sell out, you see, when my father died, for the estate is in my hands. His instinct was in the direction of considering his daughters his absolute property, bound to obey him, his to give away or his to keep to be a comfort in his declining years just as he thought fit. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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