death itself. Seeing which, Boyd said cheerfully:

“What is there in all the world to sigh about, Lanette? Death is far away and the woods are green.”

“The woods are green, repeated Lana under her breath, “yet, there are many within call who shall not live to see one leaf fall.”

“Why, what a very dirge you sing this sunny morning!” he protested, still laughing; and I, too, was surprised and disturbed, for never had I heard Lana Helmer speak in such a manner.

“‘Twas that dreary old fiddler,” he added with a shrug. “Now, God save us all, from croaking birds of every plumage, and give us to live for the golden moment.”