“Wall ... I took to whimperin’ like a two-year-old. ‘Ef ye woan’t do it fur the Bible,’ says I, ‘do it fur us boys. Ye’ve al’ays been terrible proud of us--al’ays wanted we should have jes’ what we wanted, and thar’s nothin’ in the whole o’ creation we want so much this minute as to see ye restin’ peaceful. Git back in. Close your eyes, fold your hands, git that listen fur the last trumpet look on your face. Hurry, woan’t ye? The sexton’s shovellin’ like sixty.’ “She give me another of them pitiful looks--nigh broke me all up--and she sort o’ slid back and slammed the lid down on her fur all the world like one of these cuckoo clocks. I lit out and landed side o’ the parson jes’ as he said ‘Amen.’ ... ‘Amen,’ says I, thankful-like. ‘Amen,’ says the sexton.... ‘Amen,’ says the mourners in a roarin’ chorus like the sea. And then I swear to ye that way under the dirt I heard Gram sing out Amen! Tell ye I woke in a sweat!” “Cold sweat?” I asked. It was all I could think of. “Cold as a clam, dripped with it.” “That makes three.” “Three!” Zeb tolled it out like a passing bell. “All bad enough--the fourth, worst of all. Ye wait.” I waited. “Three years I lived comfortable in my mind. Seemed like that last Amen had settled things. Then May come along. I’d been slippin’ some of them geraniums to take up to the cemetery Memorial Day. I could still walk some--slowly, but git about--and I went to bed mighty real happy at the idea o’ fixin’ up Gram’s grave. Right on top o’ that came the fourth dream! “I was swingin’ up the road toward the cemetery, and in one hand I carried a pot with the slips in, and t’other held my stick I walked with. Jes’ about reached the lot when up comes a jedge from Boston--nice feller--and I asked him to come along and see the view from our place. ‘Most famous in the State,’ says I. ‘Clear days we can see ’most anything.’ “I fetched him through the iron gates and stood him up close to the monument and begun pointin’ places out. ‘Thar’s Mount Washington,’ says I. ‘Some days ye can see the whole Presidential Range.... Thar’s Katahdin ... thar’s....’ But I stopped thar dead. I’d caught something move in the grass by Gram’s headstone. The next minute out come a whistle, loudest I ever heard. I swung the jedge clear ’round and pointed out to sea. ‘Thar’s Mount Desert,’ says I, and ‘thar’s Isle au Haut. That’s the Rockland boat ye hear whistlin’--consarn it!’ “I looked at Gram. She’d got her head and shoulders clear and she was whistlin’ ag’in fur dear life. Then she took her fingers out of her mouth and nodded her head toward out back. Seemed like she was askin’ me fur the last time to take her home. The jedge seemed lost in the scenery, and I stepped up to Gram and showed her the geranium slips. ‘Look at them,’ says I. ‘Fetched ’em all the way over to decorate your grave, and here ye be, bustin’ loose and cuttin’ up. Hain’t ye ever goin’ to give in and rest in peace?’