great man in the church. (Preacher Bonds, "Amen".) I
am told that for upwards of thirty years our brother has been a
consistent member of Mount Olivet Church and a regular attendant at its
service and a heavy contributor to its funds. I understand that he was a
mighty defender of the church's faith. He fought bravely on. He stood
like a rock. He weathered the storm. He finished the course. He
conquered.

"But, my friends, our finite minds cannot fathom the profound mysteries
of the infinite. We cannot understand. Why would a just God permit such
a noble man to meet such a tragic death? It is not ours to reason why.
We simply bow our hearts to the will of the divine."

"And now, to the bereaved I would say, Weep not as those who have no
hope. (Mrs. Gramps weeps aloud.) Brother Gramps is just gone on before.
He has crossed over Jordan, where he waits on the sunny banks of sweet
deliverance. Just a few more days and we shall join him. He has gone
where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary be at rest. Let us
pray. Brother Bonds, lead us."

CHAPTER XII

Twelve moons had rolled by since the Gramps funeral. The blue-grass sod
had already grown quite snugly over the year-old mound in the cemetery
back of the white church on the hill. The rose-bush at the head of the
mound had bloomed once and the June breeze had sprinkled its pink petals
over the green carpet. A more or less expensive tombstone stood modestly
at the head of the mound and silently announced to the passer-by what
any tombstone is supposed to announce, namely that somebody sleeps
beneath this mound. During the year many persons had stood with bared
heads and read through tears this inscription: J.D. Gramps, Born April
21, 1856--Died June 13, 18--. "They rest from their labors; and their
works do follow them."

The Gramps premises began to show signs of decay. The fences were in
need of repair and the hillside portions of the farm had been washed in
gullies by the spring freshets. A large ash-heap surrounded by
jimsonweed and burdock marked the sight of the once beautiful red barn.
The front-yard gate had been torn from its hinges, and it lay upon the
ground.

It was well known that Widow Gramps had received ten thousand dollars
from an insurance company in New York City, but what she had done with
the amount was only a matter of opinion. Along about this time it became
known in the community that the Widow had leased the farm and was
plan