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Mr Lige Willetts, riding idly by, drew rein in front of the lighted

s, and listened with the others Presently he leaned from his horse

and whispered to a "

"Do you?" whispered the other

"Yes; he and I heard her sing it, the night he was shot"

"So!"

"Yes, sir It's by Beethoven"

"Is it?"

"It's a seraphic song," continued Lige

"No!" exclaihed: "Well, it's

hter in the unseen chahts in the ent out, and a shing and talking happily, came down and drove

off in the Briscoe buckboard The little crowd dispersed quietly; Lige

Willetts plucked to his horse and cantered away to overtake the buckboard;