They've been playin' something,
and that made them laugh."
"I didn't know but I had snored," said the old man, sitting up.
"No," said his wife. Then she asked, wistfully, "Was you out at the old
place, Jacob?"
"Yes."
"Did it look natural?"
"Yes; mostly. They're sinking the wells down in the woods pasture."
"And--the children's graves?"
"They haven't touched that part. But I reckon we got to have 'em moved to
the cemetery. I bought a lot."
The old woman began softly to weep. "It does seem too hard that they
can't be let to rest in peace, pore little things. I wanted you and me to
lay there, too, when our time come, Jacob. Just there, back o' the
beehives and under them shoomakes--my, I can see the very place! And I
don't believe I'll ever feel at home anywheres else. I woon't know where
I am when the trumpet sounds. I have to think before I can tell where the
east is in New York; and what if I should git faced the wrong way when I
raise? Jacob, I wonder you could sell it!" Her head shook, and the
firelight shone on her tears as she searched the folds of her dress for
her pocket.
A peal of laughter came from the drawing-room, and then the sound of
chords struck on the piano.
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