"That is my grave, Master Teddy," answered Mrs. Waite in a low tone.
"Your grave?"
"Yes."
"Pshaw! That's a funny kind of grave. What's buried there—your pet poodle?"
"Teddy! Teddy!" whispered Phil reprovingly.
"Go 'way. This is some kind of a joke," growled Teddy.
"It is not a joke, though I do not understand the meaning of it just yet. You say this is your grave, Mrs. Waite?" asked Phil.
"Yes, Phil. You know my husband was a soldier?"
"No, I did not know that, Mrs. Waite. Will you tell me all about it?"
Phil was deeply interested now.