“I guess I'd better not,” replied Lois, in a trembling voice.
“It's real cool in there.”
“I'm afraid I'd better not.”
“Well,” said Francis, “of course I won't tease you if you don't want to.”
He tried to make his tone quite unconcerned and to smile. He was passing on, but Lois spoke.
“I might go in there just a minute,” she said.
Francis turned quickly, his face lighted up. They walked along together to the cemetery gate; he opened it and they entered and passed slowly down the drive-way.
The yard was largely overhung by evergreen trees, which held in their boughs cool masses of blue gloom. It was cool there, as Francis had said, although it was quite a warm day. The flowers on the sunny graves hung low, unless they had been freshly tended, when they stood erect in dark circles. Some of the old uncared-for graves were covered with rank growths of grass and weeds, which seemed fairly instinct with merry life this summer afternoon. Crickets and cicadas thrilled through them; now and then a bird flew up. It was like a resurrection stir.
“Let's go where we went that first day,” said Francis; “it's always pleasant there on the bank.”
Lois followed him without a word. They sat down on the grass at the edge of the terrace, and a cool breeze came in their faces from over the great hollow of the meadows below. The grass on them had been cut short, and now had dried and turned a rosy color in the sun. The two kept their eyes turned away from each other, and looked down into the meadow as into the rosy hollow of a cup; but they seemed to see each other's faces there.