Those elms had stood there when the old Moretons walked past them through corn-fields to church of a Sunday.

Away on the left above the lake, the little walled mound had come in view.

Something in Felix always stirred at sight of it, and, squeezing Nedda's arm, he said: "See that silly wall?
Behind there Granny's ancients lived.

Gone now--new house--new lake--new trees--new everything." But he saw from his little daughter's calm eyes that the sentiment in him was not in her.
"I like the lake," she said.

"There's Granny--oh, and a peacock!" His mother's embrace, with its frail energy, and the pressure of her soft, dry lips, filled Felix always with remorse.