Something in her eyes attracted and fascinated, and at the same time troubled Mr. Mason, he scarcely knew why. The old grandmother was certainly demented. The landlord had said Eudora and the whole family were queer. Was the child going to be queer, too, and did she show it in her eyes? They were very large and beautiful, and the long, curling lashes, when she closed them, fell on her cheeks like those of her dead mother, whom she resembled. She seemed out of place in her surroundings, but he could not talk to her then. The people in the next room were beginning to get restless, and to talk in low tones of their crops and the weather, and the big alligator caught near the hotel. It was time to begin, and taking the little girl in his arms, Jake motioned to Mr. Mason. In the door between the two rooms was a stand covered with a clean white towel. On it was a Bible, a hymn-book, a cup of water, and two or three flowers in another cup. Mr. Mason did not need the Bible. Jake had asked for the Resurrection and the Life, and he had brought his prayer-book, and began the beautiful burial service of the Church, to which the people listened attentively for a while; then they began to get tired, and by the time the long reading was through there were unmistakable signs of discontent among them. They had expected something more than reading a chapter. They wanted remarks, with laudations of the deceased. Miss Dory was worthy of them, and because there were none they fancied the minister did not believe it was all right with her, and they resented it. Even old Miss Thomas had "gin in," and thar was the weddin' ring, an' no sermon,--no remarks, and they didn't like it. Another grievance was that no hymn was given out, and there was the hymn-book at hand. They had at least expected "Hark from the tombs," if nothing else, but there was nothing. Singing constituted a large part of their religious worship, and they did not mean to have Miss Dory buried without this attention. As Mr. Mason finished the services and sat down, he was startled with an outburst of "Shall we meet beyond the river." Everybody joined in the song, negroes and all, their rich, full voices dominating the others, and making Mr. Mason thrill in every nerve as the quaint music filled the house, and went echoing out upon the summer air. When the "Beautiful River" was finished some one outside the door took up the refrain: "Oh, that will be joyful, joyful, joyful; Oh, that will be joyful, When we meet to part no more."