"In a way--as one person knows another in a small town"--he hesitated
delicately--"not socially at all. She was never in society."

The banker looked at Symes sidewise through a cloud of smoke and his
lips twitched suspiciously at the corners. He said merely:

"No?" and continued to stare at the pall-bearers clinging to the wheels
of the hearse while they waited outside the undertaking establishment
for Lutz to beat his way back with the plume.

"I'd like to have a look at this man Dubois, if it's possible," he said
suddenly.

"Why, yes," said Symes not too willingly. "They're going to the Hall now
to hold the services." He hated to be separated from Capital even for so
short a time, besides he had a hope that his "magnetic personality" and
personal explanations might go a long way toward softening any
criticisms he might make when he noted the discrepancies between Mudge's
statements and the actual conditions.

Symes had been quick to recognize this man's leadership and importance;
simultaneously his sanguine temperament had commenced to build upon the
banker's support--perhaps even to the extent of financing the rest of
the project.

The banker followed the morbid crowd up the steep stairs to the Hall and
seated himself on one of the squeaking folding chairs beside Mrs. Abe
Tutts and Mrs. Alva Jackson, who were holding hands and stifling sobs
which gave the impression that their hearts were breaking.

The ugly lodge room whose walls were decorated with the gaudy insignias
of the Order was filled to overflowing with the citizens of Crowheart,
whose attendance was prompted by every other reason than respect. But
this a stranger could not know, since the emotion which racked Mrs.
Percy Parrott's slender frame and reddened Mrs. Hank Terriberry's nose
seemed to spring from overwhelming grief at the loss of a good friend
and neighbor.

Mrs. Jackson's rose-geranium had blossomed just in the nick of time, and
Mrs. Parrott, who did beautiful work in paper flowers, had fashioned a
purple pillow which read "At Rest" and reposed conspicuously upon the
highly polished cover of a sample coffin. Nor could the stranger, who
found himself dividing attention with the casket, know that the
faltering tributes to the deceased taxed the young rector's ingenuity
and conscience to the utmost. Indeed, as he saw the evidences of esteem
and noted the tears of the grief-stricken ladies, he regretted the
impulse which had prompted him to