The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened. Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. "Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly. He has had the whole country searched; but hitherto without success.
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