CHAPTER IX CHANGE IT sometimes happens that death gathers from a single spot a large harvest in a year. We seem to have been forgotten; we learn to draw once more the long, secure breath of youth; we almost believe that sorrow will no more visit us. For many months Millerstown had had scarcely a funeral. In security Millerstown went about its daily tasks. Then, in May, John Hartman was found dead along the mountain road. In June there came a letter from the Western home of Great-Uncle Gaumer, telling of a serious illness and the rapid approach of the end of his life. A few days later, when a telegram announced his death, Grandfather Gaumer himself dropped to the floor in the office of his brother the squire and breathed no more. Dr. Benner, who was passing, heard from the street the crash of his fall and the squire's loud outcry, and Bevy rushed in from the kitchen. The doctor and the squire knelt beside him, and still kneeling there, regarded each other with amazement. Bevy Schnepp lifted her hands above her head and cried out, "Lieber Himmel!" and stood as if rooted to the floor. "Who will tell her?" The squire rose from his knees, pale and unsteady, and stood looking at his brother as though the sight were incredible. "Is there no life?" he asked the doctor in a whisper. The doctor shook his head. "He was gone before he fell." Bevy began to cry. "Ach, who will tell her?" "I will tell her," answered the squire. Then he went round the house and across to the other side of the homestead where Grandmother Gaumer and Katy sat at their sewing. There was a quantity of white material on Grandmother Gaumer's lap, and her fingers moved the needle swiftly in and out. Katy was talking as she hemmed a scarlet ruffle--Katy was always talking. She had been shocked by the news of the governor's illness, but she believed that he would get well. Besides, she had seen the governor only once in her life, and her grandfather had assured her that her plans for her education need not be changed. She could not be long unhappy over anything when all these beautiful new clothes were being made for her and when she was soon to leave dull Millerstown, and when Alvin Koehler had twice sat on the doorstep with her. She had journeyed to the county seat with her grandmother and there had made wonderful purchases. "And the ladies in the stores are so fine, and so polite, and they show you everything," said Katy. "When Louisa Kuhns went to Allentown she said, 'the people are me so unpolite, they go always bumping and bumping and they don't even say _uh_!' That is not true. I do not believe there is anywhere in the world a politer place than Allentown.