the hall.

"It's the priest," the waitress murmured, and with a frown he checked
her rising tears.

Aunt Lucia bustled through the room.

"You must come, Wilmot," she whispered eagerly, "she asked for you.
Peter is locked into his room, and neither of the children has been
confirmed. Susy, of course, is a Presbyterian. Not that dear Mr.
Burchard would object--he is so broad. But you have no excuse. Oh, it is
beautiful, Wilmot! She looks so lovely!"

He followed her wearily. What did it matter? It seemed to him ominous,
terrible--but it would please Caddy. She sat propped up in the bed.
Her cheeks were crimson, her eyes bright. White chrysanthemums stood
in silver vases, candles burned softly on the white-draped dresser. Mr.
Burchard, in the hall just beyond, was slipping his surplice over his
head. A faint odor of wine mingled with the flowers.

Belden dared not look at her. She was to him, in that moment, mystic,
holy, a thing apart. He dropped on his knees beside a silvery white
apron, his eyes on the floor, his heart beating hard.

The clergyman entered slowly, the service began. It was all a murmured
maze to him. Aunt Lucia sobbed quietly beside him, but as he glanced
at her he caught a light on her wet, uplifted face that thrilled him
strangely. Her deep responses spoke a faith and surety that swallowed
for the moment all her little sillinesses and obstinacies.

The solemn words grew in intensity, the candles flickered audibly in the
sacred hush. The clergyman moved toward the bed, and they heard Caddy's
breath draw out in a deep, shuddering sob; her teeth chattered against
the cup.

Belden set his jaw; it was cruel, brutal! They were killing her. His
clinched fist moved blindly toward his neighbor: he touched her hand and
gripped it fiercely.

In front of him on the wall hung a large photograph of Billy's base-ball
nine in full uniform. He could have drawn it from memory, afterwards.
Billy, he remembered, was a great catcher. He held hard to that cool,
firm hand.

"--be amongst you and remain with you always. Amen." There was a little
stir. The hand was drawn from his.

"Come, now," whispered Aunt Lucia, and he walked, stumbling and stiff
from kneeling, from the room. At the door he glanced a second backward,
but only Dr. Hitchcock was to be seen, bending over the bed. Miss Strong
had already taken away candles and flowers, and Caddy's triple mirror
was back on the dresser.

Mr. Burchard, in his l