Anne with you, Martha. I am thinking of a sweet verse that seems to
suit me now: 'They shall go out no more.' That's my comfort now; he
is safe from so many things."

The next day was the funeral, a cloudless day of glittering sunshine
and bright blue sky. The neighbours came for miles; for Bill's death
and the closing of the bar had made a profound impression.

"I wonder will Sandy Braden come," Thomas Perkins said, as he tied
his horse to a seeder in the yard. "Bill was a good customer of his,
and I wouldn't be surprised if Sandy came."

"You're a good guesser, Thomas," another man said, "for here he
comes."

"Sandy'll open up again, I think," said George Steadman, "in a few
days, when he gets over this a little. He's foolish if he doesn't,
with the busy time just startin', and money beginnin' to move."

"Well, I don't know," said Sam Motherwell. "From what I hear, Sandy
says he's got his medicine, and won't take chances on getting any
more. It'll be a good thing for the town if he has closed for keeps.
Sandy has made thousands of dollars over his bar."

"Well," George Steadman said; in his most generous tone, "I don't
begrudge it to him. Sandy's a decent fellow, and he certainly never
made it out of me or mine. He's a fool if he closes up now, but if he
does, some one else will open up. I believe a bar is a help to the
town all right!"

"It hasn't been much of a help here," Thomas Perkins said, waving his
hand at the untidy barnyard.

"Oh, well, this is an exception. There's always some man like Bill
that don't know when to quit. This business here is pretty rough on
me, though," Mr. Steadman said, in a truly grieved tone; "losin' my
tenant just before harvest; but I blame nobody but Bill himself. He
hasn't used me square, you all know that."

"Stop, George, stop!" The broad Scotch of Roderick Ray's voice had
not been heard before in the conversation. "Hoo hae we used Bill? He
was aye fond o' it an' aye drank it to his hurt an' couldna stop.
What hae we done to help him? Dye think it fair to leave a trap-door
open for a child to fall doon? An' if ye found him greetin' at the
bottom, wad ye no tak him up an' shut the door? Puir Bill, we found
him greetin' an' bruised an' sore mony times, but nane o' us had the
humanity to try to shut the door until he fell once too often, an'
could rise na more, an' now Sandy himsel' has shamed us a', an' I
tell ye, he'll no open it again, for he has better bluid in him n