houlder high; and behind
came two figures only--those of Miss Montmorency and the architect--
arm in arm. The bearers wheeled round, got into step after one or
two attempts, and the procession advanced.

"And I observed, as it advanced, that a hush came slowly with it,
closing on the click of the balls and the strumming of the banjoes,
as from saloon after saloon the players stepped out and fell in at
the tail of the procession. Gradually these noises were penned into
the three or four saloons immediately beneath me; and then these,
too, were silenced, and the mourners began to climb the hill.

"I did not attend the funeral after all. I rose and stood hat in
hand as it climbed past--the coffin, the one woman, and the many men.
It was grotesque enough. Flo had on the same outrageous costume she
had worn at our first meeting; but a look at the black drapery of the
coffin sanctified _that_. One mourner, in pure absence of mind, had
brought along his billiard-cue as a walking-stick; and every now and
then would step out of the ranks and distribute whacks among the five
or six dogs that frisked alongside the procession. But I read on
every face the consciousness that Eucalyptus was doing its duty.

"So they climbed past and up to the Necropolis, and filed in between
its two pillars. I could see among the pines a group or two
standing, with bent heads, and Captain Bill towering beside the
grave; at times I heard his voice lifted, but could not catch the
words. Down in the town for a while all was silent as death.
Then in a saloon below some boy--left behind, no doubt, to look after
the house--took up a banjo and began to pick out slowly and with one
finger the tune of ''Way down upon the Suwanee River,' and as it went
I fitted the words to it:"

'All the world is sad and dreary
Everywhere I roam,
Oh, brudders, how my heart grows weary . . .'

"The tune ceased. The only sound now came from a robin, hunting
about the turf and now and then breaking out into an impatient
twitter.

"The silence was broken at length by the footsteps of the mourners
returning. They went down the hill almost as decorously as they had
gone up. Flo stepped aside and came towards me.

"'Let me stay beside you for a bit. I can't go back there--yet.'

"This was all she said; and we stood there side by side for minutes.
Soon the tinkle of a banjo came up to us, and a pair of billiard
balls clicked; then a second b