"Men aren't ever bugs," said Peletiah decidedly.

"Oh, yes, they are."

"No, they ain't," he declared obstinately.

"My mother says we mustn't contradict," put in Ezekiel, with a reproving glance at him across Rachel's lap.

Peletiah unfolded his hands in extreme distress, but he couldn't say that men were bugs, so he sat still.

"Anyway, they are in the city, where I lived," said Rachel, "so never mind.

Well, this funeral was just too splendid for anythin'. In the first place there was----"

"Oh, it's coming," cried Ezekiel, p.r.i.c.king up his ears. "Miss Bedlow's funeral's coming."

Rachel gave a jump that carried her off from the door-stone and quite a piece down the box-bordered path. She was hanging over the gate when the boys came up.

"Where?" she said. "I don't see any."

A small, black, high-topped wagon went by, the old horse at a jog trot, and after it came a two-seated rockaway, and after that a carryall, and around the curve in the road appeared more vehicles of the same patterns, tapering off to a line of chaises and gigs.

"Why, that's the funeral," said Peletiah, in solemn enjoyment, and pointing a finger at it; "it's going by now."

"What!" exclaimed Rachel, horribly disappointed. Then she flew away from the gate and turned her back on it all. "I wish I was back in the city!"

she said.

XIII

"SHE'S GOING TO STAY HERE FOREVER"

It was dreadful; and after she had said it, Rachel stood overwhelmed with distress. "Don't you tell your father." She whirled around and clutched Peletiah's sleeve.

"We must," he said; "he's the minister, and we have to tell him everything."

"Well, don't tell your mother, anyway," she begged anxiously.

"We must," said Peletiah again, "because we tell her everything, too."

"Then she'll send me back." Rachel, quite gone in despair, gave a loud cry and threw herself face downward on the gra.s.s, where she sobbed as if her heart would break.

This was so much worse than he had imagined, as any possible effect from his words, that Peletiah couldn't speak, but stood over her in silent misery. Seeing this, Ezekiel took matters into his own hands.

"I'm going to run after the funeral and get Ma to come home; she'll be at the top of the procession," and he moved off toward the gateway.

"Stop!" Rachel squealed; then she sprang to her feet. "Don't you stir a step, you!" she commanded.

"They're all hearing you," observed Peletiah, who, seeing Rachel upon her feet, found his spirits reviving, and he pointed to the line of buggies and chaises. "See 'em looking back; my father won't like it."

"Oh, dear me!" Rachel struggled with her sobs. "You shouldn't 'a' told me you had 'em. That ain't a funeral."

"It is, too," declared Peletiah; "it's Miss Bedlow's funeral, and my Pa is going to bury her."

"It ain't, either; an' that's a baker's cart," said Rachel, pointing to the departing hea.r.s.e with scorn.

"Oh, oh, what a story!" exclaimed Ezekiel, who was just on the point of reproving his brother for contradicting, and he pointed his brown finger at her. "That's got Miss Bedlow in, and they're taking her to the burying-ground, and it's her funeral."

"Well, I don't want to go back to the city," said Rachel hastily, dismissing Miss Bedlow and her funeral and all discussion thereon summarily, and she dug the toe of her shoe into the gravel; "don't let your mother send me back."

"You said you wished you were back there," observed Peletiah severely, fixing his pale eyes on her distressed face, along which the tears were making little paths.

"Well, I don't care. I don't want to go. Don't let her!" She seized his arm and shook it smartly.

"You're shaking me!" said Peletiah, in astonishment.

"I know it, an' I'm goin' to," said Rachel, stamping her foot.

"You ain't going to shake my brother," declared Ezekiel loudly, "and we'll make you go back if you shake us," he added vindictively.

"Oh, dear, dear!" Rachel dropped Peletiah's arm, and she hid her face in her hands. "Don't make me go back," she wailed. "It's too dreadful there, for Mrs. Fisher won't have me if you send me away, 'n' Gran 'll get hold of me somehow--she'll--she'll find me, I know she will," and she shivered all over.

"Who's Gran?" Peletiah drew quite near.

"She's Gran," said Rachel, shivering again. "Oh, dear! don't ask me; and she beat me dreadful, an'--" her voice broke.

"She beat you?" cried Peletiah.

"Awful," said Rachel, cramming her fingers into her mouth to keep from crying. "Oh, dear, dear! don't send me back."

Peletiah took two or three steps off, then came back.

"You may shake me if you want to," he said generously, "and you ain't going back."

"Well, she isn't going to shake me," said Ezekiel stoutly, "and my Ma will send her back if she shakes me, so there!"

"I hain't shook you yet," said Rachel, disclosing her black eyes between her fingers and viewing him with cold disdain.

"Well, you ain't going to," repeated Ezekiel, with decision.

"Her Gran beat her." Peletiah went over to his brother. "She beat Rachel."

He kept repeating it, over and over; meanwhile Ezekiel moved about in confusion, digging the toes of his shoes into the gravel to hide it.

"Well, she ain't going to shake me," he said, but it was in a fainter voice, and he didn't look at Rachel's eyes.

"And you mustn't ask Mother to send her back," said Peletiah stubbornly.