"What?" he asked.
"Two things, Aaron,—conception and form."
Aaron mused awhile.
"What gave you the idea?" he asked, his musing over.
"Sermons in granite," I answered; and I looked at the sunshine, the afternoon radiance that fell soothingly into the winter-wearied grass lying in the graveyard, waiting like souls for the warmth of love to enlife them.
Aaron said,—
"Sandstone and limestone you mean, Anna."
"Oh, no,—granite. I mean the Axtells."
"I'm glad you've found anything comprehensible enough to call a sermon in them," he answered. "Ill, dying, and in affliction, they are impenetrable to me." And Aaron turned away and went in.