VALLEY

THE MANSE CHILDREN 33was sacred to the memory of a certain Alec Davis whohad been born a Methodist but had taken tohimselfa Presbyterian bride of the Douglas clan. She hadmade him turn Presbyterian and kept him toeing thePresbyterian mark all his life. But when he died shedid not dare to doom him to a lonely grave in thePresbyterian graveyard over-harbour. His peoplewere all buried in the Methodist cemetery; so AlecDavis went back to his own in death and his widowa monument which costconsoled herself by erectingmore than any of the Methodists could afford. TheMeredith children hated it,without just knowing why,but they loved the old, flat, bench-like stones with thetall grasses growing rankly about them. They madejolly seats for one thing. They were all sitting onone now. Jerry, tired of leap frog, was playing ona jews-harp.Carl was lovingly poring over a strangebeetle he had found; Una was trying to make a doll'sdress, and Faith, leaning back on her slender brownwrists, was swinging her bare feet in lively time to thejews-harp.Jerry had his father's black hair and large blackeyes, but in him the latter were flashinginstead ofdreamy. Faith, who came next to him, wore herbeauty like a rose, careless and glowing. She hadgolden-brown eyes, golden-brown curls and crimsoncheeks. She laughed too much to please her father'scongregation and had shocked old Mrs. Taylor, thedisconsolate spouse of several departed husbands, by