et the shock, neither definite
religion nor "philosophy" definite or indefinite. He could only beat his
forehead and beg, over and over, to be killed with an ax, while his wife
was helpless except to entreat him not to "take on," herself adding a
continuous lamentation. Edith, weeping, made truce with Sibyl and saw to
it that the mourning garments were beyond criticism. Roscoe was dazed,
and he shirked, justifying himself curiously by saying he "never had
any experience in such matters." So it was Bibbs, the shy outsider, who
became, during this dreadful little time, the master of the house; for
as strange a thing as that, sometimes, may be the result of a death. He
met the relatives from out of town at the station; he set the time
for the funeral and the time for meals; he selected the flowers and
he selected Jim's coffin; he did all the grim things and all the other
things. Jim had belonged to an order of Knights, who lengthened the
rites with a picturesque ceremony of their own, and at first Bibbs
wished to avoid this, but upon reflection he offered no objection--he
divined that the Knights and their service would be not precisely a
consolation, but a satisfaction to his father. So the Knights led the
procession, with their band playing a dirge part of the long way to the
cemetery; and then turned back, after forming in two lines, plumed
hats sympathetically in hand, to let the hearse and the carriages pass
between.

"Mighty fine-lookin' men," said Sheridan, brokenly. "They all--all liked
him. He was--" His breath caught in a sob and choked him. "He was--a
Grand Supreme Herald."

Bibbs had divined aright.

"Dust to dust," said the minister, under the gaunt trees; and at that
Sheridan shook convulsively from head to foot. All of the black group
shivered, except Bibbs, when it came to "Dust to dust." Bibbs stood
passive, for he was the only one of them who had known that thought as a
familiar neighbor; he had been close upon dust himself for a long, long
time, and even now he could prophesy no protracted separation between
himself and dust. The machine-shop had brought him very close, and if
he had to go back it would probably bring him closer still; so close--as
Dr. Gurney predicted--that no one would be able to tell the difference
between dust and himself. And Sheridan, if Bibbs read him truly, would
be all the more determined to "make a man" of him, now that there was
a man less in the family. To Bibbs's knowledg