Wood, now more buxom and more gorgeously arrayed than ever,—as well as a young and beautiful female, in whom he was at no loss to recognise the carpenter's daughter. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. “I thought we had discussed that, father. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief.
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