"For oh! we stand on Jordan's strand,
Our friends are passing over."
In the midst of the refrain, each time, there trembled up in tearful ecstasy, above the common wave of song, the voices of Leviticus Wisdom and his wife. But only once, after the last stanza, Johanna's yet clearer tone answered them from close beside black-veiled Barbara, singing in vibrant triumph,
"An' jess befo', de shiny sho'
We may almos' discoveh."
XXXIII.
THE OPPORTUNE MOMENT
Coming from the grave Fair walked with March.
"Yes, I go to-night; I shall see my father within three days. He may think better of your ideas than I do. Don't you suppose really—" etc. "You think you'll push it anyhow?"
"Yes, sir. In fact, I've got to."
After all others were gone one man still loitered furtively in the cemetery. He came, now, from an alley of arborvitæs with that fantastic elasticity of step which skilled drunkards learn. He had in hand a bunch of limp flowers of an unusual kind, which he had that day ridden all the way to Pulaski City to buy. He stood at the new grave's foot, sank to one knee, wiped true tears from his eyes, pressed apart the evergreens and chrysanthemums piled there, and laid in the midst his own bruised and wilted offering of lilies.