12 Deadline for next issue of Mirror 2 July Tribute cont'd from pg. 7 them to be similar. it was as if the darkness in her own life made her unable to read of the darkness in the lives of others. She glimpsed into Agnes's life through her books and recognized the degree of courage involved in maintain- ing the facade of quiet civility and generous cheerfulness that had so characterized the woman. She replaced the book onto the shelf. Jeremy's, "There you are. home," startled her. "No, | was just having a look around," she confessed, waving to the books on the shelf. "Well there's nothing more for me here. You're sure you don't want me to drive you home?" "No. The exercise will do me good," she smiled. It had been a while since Hilda had walked through Lower Town, and she was seeing it with new eyes. She had been most familiar with it as a child, when Weaver's Mills had been a bustling community and the houses of Lower Town, although housing the workers from the mills, and the clerks from the banks and stores, had been a neatly main- tained, well kept section of the town. Now, however, these same houses were falling into decay. They were not falling down, just missing a piece of ginger-bread here, or a balustrade from the veranda rail there. Here and there a woebegone rose found its way up arickety trellis. Then, as if to show what the houses had once been like, she would encounter a beautifully maintained little jewel of a house, its yard neatly fenced, flowers blooming in the borders. Such had been the Turley house. She reached the corner of Rail Street and Kings Road, deciding it was closer to continue along Rail Street, she crossed the road and followed the street that paralleled the railway, past the brick solidity of what had been the last operating mill in the town, preserved now as a museum. It was closed today. As that fact registered, Hilda thought it odd and wondered if one of the volunteers who took scheduled turns keeping this local attraction open during the summer, was ill. Smiling to herself she thought it wouldn't be long in a town this size before she would be toid. Nothing travelled faster than the latest news. It was pleasant walking along with the open fields where the railway yard had once stood on her left and the Mill Pond on her right. Beyond the railway land was a field of grain, running in along narrow strip between the right-of-way and the township road. Just beyond the road could be seen pasture, cows grazing complacently or lying down chewing their cud. "Wasn'tthere some old wives tale about cows lying down before arain?" she asked herself. She squinted against the sun, counting the cows lying and the ones standing. "Might rain, might not," she muttered, counting six cows standing and six lying down, then laughed aloud at her foolishness. She carried on such aconversation with Agnes one day as they had walked home from school. "Oh, Agnes. Why did such a thing have to happen to you?" | thought you had gone The coroner's van had delivered the body to the hospital, and was just pulling away from the back door, when Jeremy drove into the coroner's parking place. *Well Preston, oid boy. You chose a fine time to take a sabbatical. If we continue at this rate all thetime you're away, a murder every other day, half the town will be dead by the time you come back" he realized he had been talking out ioud, by the peculiar lookthe orderly who was standing atthe back door having a cigarette, gave him. "Everything okay, doc?" the man asked. "Just talking to myself. Sure sign of old age." The orderly laughed and took a quick drag of his cigarette. "See they brought you another body. Who's it this time." "Charlie Turley," Jeremy replied tersely. "You don't say." The orderly was clearly surprised. *Fall it front of a truck did he?* But the door was closing on Jeremy's back before the man could complete the ques- tion. Margaret Struthers was waiting for him in his office, a fresh cup of coffee on his desk. "Well Jeremy, Doctor Johnston certainly knew when to go away for a month." *| just told myselfthat." He took a sip of the coffee. "Now Ben Gibbs thinks I've lost it. He was standing out back having a cigarette, and there | am talking to Preston's parking sign." "Phooey! Preston Johnston not only talked to himself, he carried on a conversation. Ben will just think its a peculiarity of coroners," Margaret laughed. *Anyway, he'll be disappointed he missed all the excitement." Jeremy grinned at her over his coffee cup. "Well must get at it." He put the empty cup down. "Who can assist me?" "| have no one but a student nurse here on placement, that | can spare," she said ruefully. "Barney Slocum always assists Dr. Johnston, but went off on vacation at the same time the doctor did." She had slipped back into her profes- sional role with ease. "The student is a bright young thing ... third year Nursing Science from Queens. She specifical- ly requested a rural hospital for placement because of the variety of experience to be had at one." "Good. Have her report to the autopsy room." He opened the door to step into the hall, "Oh and if | could borrow Gibbs as well." "He's all yours. This is a slack time for the orderlies, but | have to schedule them a full shift even though for a couple of hours every afternoon they are just given jobs to keep them busy." There speaks the administrator, Jeremy thought as he walked brusquely down the hall to the autopsy room. It was good to be out of active involvement with the running of the hospital. He remembered when he had been Chief of Medicine, and had had to make scheduling cuts to stay within budget and thought of the week-ends when the coverage was less than could be considered necessary, Tribute cont'dpg. 13