A hush fell on the room. There was a baleful light shimmering through Zeb’s dull eyes, his claws began a nervous intertwining. “Wall ...” he broke the silence at last, “Gram died. Night afore she died seems like she got scairt. She grabbed us boys one after another and made us all promise we wouldn’t bury her twell we were good and sure she was dead. ‘Keep me five days--promise me that,’ she kept a-sayin’. And we promised. Recollect it didn’t seem to me then as how Gram could die--so full of smartness and spunk. Even after old Doc Coombs come and pronounced her, seemed like she’d open her eyes any minute and ask us boys to lug her somewhars. ’Stead o’ that she lay so quiet, seemed like I could hear Doomsday strike.” The air about us became suddenly supercharged with something. Was it that ravenous desire for life that must have consumed Gram Perkins? Under their glass domes the hair wreaths seemed to move as if fanned by a breath. The feathers about us swayed. The rooster in the pulled-in rug seemed to pulse with life and a desire to crow. A crowing shook the room, but it came from Zeb. “Hot! Golly, Gram died in the sizzlingest spell, middle of August, folks can remember. Didn’t embalm in them days, so ’twas ice or nothing. We drew lots for shifts--us boys. Ben and Ellery drew day; Sam and me night. Mebbe we didn’t work! Lugged in hunks from the ice house to the shed; thar we cracked and lugged in dish pans to the settin’ room. Crack--lug--mop--lug--crack. Five days! It’s been a powerful sight o’ comfort sence to know we kept Gram’s promise. Then come the funeral--smart one. Slathers o’ flowers and mourners and hacks. Cal’ate you’ve seen the lot whar we buried her?” At the mention of burial a sense of enormity made me shudder. I was beginning to realize that the further Zeb progressed in the matter of the obsequies of Gram Perkins the more alive she became. At that moment she possessed the house--every crack and cranny in it. She possessed Zeb, and she possessed me. I found myself straining my ears for the rattle of dishes in the butt’ry or the sharp thin note of a whistle. Zeb’s ear was cocked as well as mine.