The man under the apple tree rose hurriedly and came forward.

"Helen, dearest,--not again, today!" he begged. "Darling, it can't do any good!"

"But she's alone--all alone. You don't seem to think! No one thinks--no one knows how I feel. You don't understand. If you did, you'd come with me. You wouldn't ask me to stay--here!" choked the woman.

"I have been with you, dear," said the man gently. "I've been with you today, and every day, almost, since--since she left us. But it can't do any good--this continuous mourning over her grave. It only makes more sadness for you, for me, and for Bobby. Bobby is--here, you know, dear!"

"No, no, don't say it," cried the woman wildly. "You don't understand! You don't understand!" And she turned and hurried away, followed by the worried eyes of the man, and the sad eyes of the boy.

(MUSIC)

It was not a long walk to the burial place. The Lady in Black knew the way. Yet, she stumbled and reached out blindly. She fell before a little stone marked "Kathleen." Near her a gray-haired woman, with her hands full of pink and white roses, watched her sympathetically. The gray-haired woman paused and opened her lips as if she would speak. Then she turned slowly and began to arrange her flowers on a grave nearby.

The Lady in Black raised her head. For a time she watched in silence. Then she threw back her veil and spoke.

"You care, too," she said softly. "You understand. I've seen you here before, I'm sure. And was yours--a little girl?"