swung in great semicircles under the elm, now up among its branches, now skimming above the ground.
When the hymn was finished the little red books were collected by the eldest Chard boy, and returned to the minister, who stood mopping his brow with a white handkerchief. The Indians arranged themselves in single file and began slowly to pass the coffin to take their last look on the face of Solomon, upturned, with sunken eyes and cheeks, and a smile of bitter composure. His wife came last, and bent for a moment to press her round wet face against his cold one. Then a loud wail broke from her and she clutched him by the shoulders and tried to drag him from the coffin. Moans of sympathy came from the other squaws, excepting Solomon's other wife, who stared at her successor with the ponderous contempt of a mountain for a brawling stream.
The coffin was hidden by a surging crowd. The minister carefully laid his autoharp in its case. Chard was very busy giving orders; then the coffin reappeared borne on the shoulders of six men. A wavering procession was formed, brightened by the gay colours of the women's shawls and the flowery hats of the girls. Jammery carried the Gates Ajar. They were now bound for the little graveyard.
A cry of anger burst from Phœbe. "Let loose, now, Hughie—this minute," she was saying.
"What are you up to, Hugh?" asked Derek, reproachfully, with a glance towards Mr. Ramsey.
"He's been and took my spectacles," cried Phœbe, "and I couldn't see the percession at all. He's an unnatural lover, if ever there was one."
"Give them back to her," ordered Derek, and Hugh sheepishly handed them over.
"Rose-coloured spectacles, I am sure," said Mr. Ramsey, airily.
