"So suitably dressed," the stout lady was saying to a lady beyond; "grandchildren, you know." "She says they are grandchildren," echoed the whispers around. "Even their little handkerchiefs have black borders," somebody beyond replied. Emmy Lou wondered if she was in some dreadful dream. Was she a grandchild or was she an orphan? Her head swam. The service began and there fell on the unwilling grandchildren the submission of awe. The stout lady cried, she also punched Emmy Lou with her elbow whenever that little person moved, but finally she found courage to turn her head so she could see Sadie. Sadie was weeping into her black-bordered handkerchief, nor were they the tears of histrionic talent. They were real tears. People all about were looking at her sympathetically. Such grief in a grandchild was very moving. It may have been minutes, it seemed to Emmy Lou hours, before there came a general up-rising. Hattie stood up. So did Sadie and Emmy Lou. Their skirts no longer stood out jauntily; they were quite crushed and subdued. There was a wild, hunted look in Hattie's eyes. "Watch the chance," she whispered, "and run." But it did not come. As the pews emptied, the stout lady passed Emmy Lou on, addressing some one beyond. "Hold to this one," she said, "and I'll take the other two, or they'll get tramped in the crowd." Emmy Lou felt herself grasped, she could not see up to find by whom. The crowd in the aisle had closed above her head, but she heard the stout lady behind saying, "Did you ever see such an ill-mannered child!" and Emmy Lou judged that Hattie was struggling against Fate. Slowly the crowd moved, and, being a part of it however unwillingly, Emmy Lou moved too, out of the church and down the steps. Then came the crashing of the band and the roll of carriages, and she found herself in the front row on the curb. The man with the brandishing sword was threatening violently. "One more carriage is here for the family," called the man with the sword. His face was red and his voice was hoarse. His glance in search for the family suddenly fell on Emmy Lou. She felt it fall. The problem solved itself for the man with the sword, and his brow cleared. "Grandchildren next," roared the threatening man. "Grandchildren," echoed the crowd. Hattie and Sadie were pushed forward from somewhere, Hattie lifting her voice. But what was the cry of a Hattie before the brazen utterance of the band? Sadie was weeping wildly. Emmy Lou with the courage of despair cried out in the grasp of the threatening man, but the man lifting her into the carriage, was speaking himself, and to the driver. "Keep an eye on them--separated from the family," he was explaining, and a moment later Hattie and Sadie were lifted after Emmy Lou into the carriage, and as the door banged, their carriage moved with the rest up the street. "Now," said Hattie, and Hattie sprang to the farther door. It would not open. Things never will in dreadful dreams.