“I'll go take a look at 'im,” Langston said, laying his hat on the door-sill. “I sent my oldest gal over after John Tobines an' Andy Warner, an' when they git here we three will lay 'im out. John's handy with a razor--he used to work in a barber's shop--an' he'll shave the pore fellow an' trim his hair. Some o' the young men an' women will want to set up here to-night, an' give you an' Addie a chance to snatch a little sleep.” “That will be obligin' of 'em,” Amanda answered, still wiping her eyes. “You kin tell 'em I'll fix a nice snack an' some coffee to sorter freshen 'em up. How many do you reckon will come?” “Oh, I'd fix for four couples, anyway. Thar is a certain crowd that always count on sech occasions--you know who they are as well as I do, I reckon?” “Yes, Polly Long an' her bunch.” Amanda followed the man across the corridor into the room where the corpse lay, and as Paul was leaving he heard her continuing, plaintively: “Death is just the awfulest, awfulest thing we come across in this life, Brother Langston. We know so little--so powerful little about it. One minute we see the sparkle of the soul in the eye, hear a voice full of life; you catch a smile, or a knowin' look, an' maybe the next minute just a empty shell lies before you. Rafe was a good, patient man, an' he suffered a lot, fust an' last.” “Did he make his _peace?_” Langston inquired. “That is the fust thought I have when a body dies. Do you think he was all right? He didn't go to meetin' often, an' I never happened to hear 'im say what his hopes of reward was.” “I don't know--I really don't know,” Amanda returned, and Paul, lingering in the kitchen doorway, heard her voice falter. “Brother Langston, sometimes I was bothered purty sharp on that score. Him and Paul both used to repeat some o' Jim Hoag's terrible sayin's like they thought they was smart an' funny, an' neither one of 'em ever would read the Bible, or seek spiritual advice, an' sech a thing as family prayer, or a blessin' asked at the table was never heard in this house.” “I know.” The masculine voice sounded louder now, as if its owner had come back into the corridor. “That's why I was axin'. Folks cayn't take up notions like Hoag has in a God-fearin' community like our'n an' flaunt 'em about without causin' comment. My own opinion is that Jim Hoag is a devil in the garb of a man. He's larnt Paul all the awful things the boy believes, an' a man that will lead the young off like that ought to be tarred an' feathered an' rid out o' the community on a sharp rail. If he didn't have so much money he'd 'a' been called down long ago.” Paul was in the stable-yard when Amanda came out to him.