sorry for you!"

"I never knowed he was a-goin' until he was gone," she said. "He was
the only one of mine I ever lost, an' I thought it would jest lay me
out. I couldn't 'a' stood it at all if I hadn't 'a' knowed he was
saved. I well know my Henry went straight to Heaven. Why Miss
Stanton, he riz right up in bed at the last, and clear and strong he
jest yelled it: 'Hurrah fur Grant!'"

My mother's fingers tightened in my hair until I thought she would pull
out a lot, and I could feel her knees stiffen. Leon just whooped.
Mother sprang up and ran to the door.

"Leon!" she cried. Then there was a slam. "What in the world is the
matter?" she asked.

"Stepped out of the tub right on the soap, and it threw me down,"
explained Leon.

"For mercy sake, be careful!" said my mother, and shut the door.

It wasn't a minute before the knob turned and it opened again a little.

I never saw mother's face look so queer, but at last she said softly:
"You were thinking of the grave cover for him?"

"Yes, but I wanted to ask you before I bound myself. I heard you lost
two when the scarlet fever was ragin' an' I'm goin' to do jest what you
do. If you have kivers, I will. If you don't like them when you see
how bright and shiny they are, I won't get any either."

"I can tell you without seeing them, Mrs. Freshett," said my mother,
wrapping a strand of hair around the tin so tight I slipped up my
fingers to feel whether my neck wasn't like a buck-eye hull looks, and
it was. "I don't want any cover for the graves of my dead but grass
and flowers, and sky and clouds. I like the rain to fall on them, and
the sun to shine, so that the grass and flowers will grow. If you are
satisfied that the soul of Henry is safe in Heaven, that is all that is
necessary. Laying a slab of iron on top of earth six feet above his
body will make no difference to him. If he is singing with the angels,
by all means save your money for the organ."

"I don't know about the singin', but I'd stake my last red cent he's
still hollerin' fur Grant. I was kind o' took with the idea; the
things was so shiny and scilloped at the edges, peered like it was
payin' considerable respect to the dead to kiver them that-a-way."

"What good would it do?" asked mother. "The sun shining on the iron
would make it so hot it would burn any flower you tried to plant in the
opening; the water couldn't reach the roots, and all that fell on the
slab would run of