In the struggle her cap fell off. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. She asked no further questions for the moment. Well, this is OUR thing. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on.
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