I shook the rugs in the Methodist graveyard because it was such a convenient place and not because I meant to be disrespectful of the dead. It isn’t the dead folks who have made the fuss over this—it’s the living folks. And it isn’t right for any of you to blame my father for this, because he was away and didn’t know, and anyhow we thought it was Monday. He’s just the best father that ever lived in the world and we love him with all our hearts.”
Faith’s bravado ebbed out in a sob. She ran down the steps and flashed out of the side door of the church. There the friendly starlit, summer night comforted her and the ache went out of her eyes and throat. She felt very happy.