hast when, on coming out
of the class-room where he had taken his examination, he declined their
suggestion that they all go down to the river skating for an hour and
try to get their blood up after the strain so they could study better
after lunch.

"I can't! I'm going to that kid's funeral!" he said, and strode up the
stairs with his arms full of books.

"Good night!" said Pat, in dismay.

"Morbid!" ejaculated Tennelly. "Say, Pat, I don't guess we better let
him go. He'll come home 'all in' again."

But when they found Bill Ward and went up to try and stop Courtland he
had departed by the other door and was half-way down the campus.

CHAPTER VIII

It was all very neat and beautiful in the little, third-story back room.
The gas-stove and other things had disappeared behind the calico
curtain. Before it stood the small white coffin, with the beautiful boy
lying as if he were asleep, the roses strewn about him, and a mass of
valley-lilies at his feet. The girl, white and calm, sat beside him, one
hand resting across the casket protectingly.

Three or four women from the house had brought in chairs, and some of
the neighbors had slipped in shyly, half in sympathy, half in curiosity.
The minister was already there, talking in a low tone in the hall with
the undertaker.

The girl looked up when Courtland entered and thanked him for the
flowers with her eyes. The women huddled in the back of the room watched
him curiously and let no flicker of an eyelash pass without notice. They
were like hungry birds ready to pounce on any scrap of sentiment or
suspicion that might be dropped in their sight. The doctor came stolidly
in and went and stood beside the coffin, looking down for a minute as if
he were burning remedial incense in his soul, and then turned away with
the frank tears running down his tired, honest face. He sat down beside
Courtland. The stillness and the strangeness in the bare room were
awful. It was only bearable to look toward the peace in the small,
white, dead face; for the calm on the face of the sister cut one to the
heart.

The minister and the undertaker stepped into the room, and then it
seemed to Courtland as if One other entered also. He did not look up to
see. He merely had that sense of Another. It stayed with him and
relieved the tension in the room.

Then the voice of the minister, clear, gentle, ringing, triumphant,
stole through the room, and out into the hall, even down throug