her eyes as effectively as she knew how.
Then gentle notes on the piano startled her into attention, and a wonderful voice began to sing. It seemed to Dale as she sat quietly by the casket as if an angelic voice were announcing the arrival of a soul in heaven, and a sweet smile hovered over the lips of the girl who was being so terribly bereaved.
"Isn't that Grandma's song?" whispered an eager neighbor to Hattie who was standing up just behind Corliss.
"Yes ma'am," Hattie whispered audibly. "Mr. Golden always sang it for her when he came to see her. She just loved to hear him sing."
"Open the gates of the temple,
Strew palms on the victor's way,
Open your hearts ye people,"
sang the golden voice, thrilling triumphantly through the rooms and causing even Corliss to listen. That man really had a voice if he only would sing something decent. But this song was quite an old chestnut. Why didn't they pick out something real? Why, there wasn't a word about heaven even in that song. Or was there?
Then suddenly the golden voice brought out the tender triumphant affirmation:
"I know. I know. I know that my Redeemer liveth!"
Oh, so that was it, was it? Religious stuff! Of course that would be it. Grandmother was that way. Corliss turned back to lean against the wall and close her eyes again.
But the golden voice went on, bringing out the words with such conviction in the tone that Corliss had to listen, had to know that there was really something in this song that others beside Grandmother believed in. A hint crept into her heart that it might somehow be true, at least to a certain extent. It was conceivable that she herself might have to pay some attention to such things some time. But not now. She was young. When she got to be as old as Grandmother it might be all right, if people still believed in such things as a Redeemer. She wasn't at all sure she did. Yet the voice of that good-looking young man sounded as if he did. That golden voice like a piercing blade of a golden sword that was cutting deep into her soul and frightening her, in spite of all her opposition, in spite of all her unacknowledged sin!
Suddenly she turned toward the officer sitting across from her, sitting where he could see into the room with the golden voice and the casket. Was he taking it as some sort of mockery, just mere words? Or even a joke? She hoped he was.
But no, the man was looking straight toward the voice, sympathy and conviction in his face. It really was quite attractive in a serviceman, a look like that. She hadn't thought it would fit with a uniform, but it did. And he didn't look like a sissy, either. He looked as if he could fight hard if he tried, throw bombs, and shoot, maybe dance and have good times. Corliss sat back and studied him through half-closed lashes. She decided he looked pretty nice, and she would stick around and see if she couldn't date him for the evening. It oughtn't to be hard to do. If she only could get out of riding to that old cemetery!
The service was going on all this time, but without benefit of Corliss's attention. She was studying the young officer. Maybe she could work it around for him to ride in the same car to the cemetery, if he went. If he didn't, she would stay at home herself and see if she couldn't follow him down the street and pretend to sprain her ankle or something. She was determined to get to know him. Maybe make him take her to a movie or a dance to-night.
Wonderful scripture was being read that Grandmother Huntley had herself selected, but it made no impression upon Corliss. She was studying the profile of the splendid-looking officer. But the man was giving interested attention to the service and was utterly unaware of the girl who was watching him.
Corliss was disappointed that he didn't ride in the same car with them. Instead, he was put with Dale and the minister and the young man singer. That was mean of Dale to manage it that way. And there was some old woman in the car with her mother and brother and herself. If there hadn't been so many people around, she might have tried the screaming act, but on account of the good-looking singer and the navy man, she didn't consider it. Perhaps there would be some way to get to talk to him after this ride was over. So she gloomed through the remaining ceremonies and was glad indeed when the car drew up at the house again and she saw that the navy man was getting out and going into the house with Dale. He probably wouldn't stay long, and she would plan to talk to him somehow. So she settled herself on the porch to wait for his departure. He seemed to be over by the desk in the living room writing something for Dale. What in the world could he want of Dale? Some business probably connected with the funeral. He certainly couldn't be interested in her. She was awfully plain and not stylish at all according to Corliss's tastes.
But Corliss grew impatient before the meeting at the desk ended. Dale was writing something, too. Some address probably, or maybe signing a paper. Only they seemed so awfully interested in what they were saying. A sharp, jealous look went over her young face. It had always been this way with Dale, thought the young cousin. She seemed to think because she was older she could manage everything.
But at last the two young people rose from the desk and came to the door. Corliss rose precipitately and scuttled to the other side of the door, where she could easily slip down the steps after the man when he should go; and so she missed the look in his eyes when he took Dale's hand briefly and said good-bye.
Then he was gone, with a quick, bright smile back at Dale standing in the doorway. But Corliss missed getting the full effect of even that, for she was hurrying down the walk nonchalantly ahead of him, sliding behind two old ladies, who were going into the house next door, and nearly knocking one of them over in her haste. Her main object was to catch that "navy guy" before he should vanish again as he had last night, for he was walking now with long, quick strides and looking at his watch as he went, as if he was afraid he was going to be late somewhere. She mustn't appear to be walking too fast, either. She mustn't dare to run, or her mother would say something. She had already endured one long, sharp lecture from her mother on the subject of decorum at the time of a funeral. But as soon as the two old ladies went into their own gate, she pressed by them and hurried on, dismayed to find how far ahead the man had already gone. Then, as he turned a corner, she did begin to run. She wasn't going to let him escape this time. A moment later she caught up by his side, quite out of breath, and accosted him.
"Oh, I say, what's your rush?" she panted. "I've nearly run my legs off to catch you."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" he said, coming about-face and looking at her, startled. "I didn't leave something, did I? Was there some message from Miss Huntley? Should I go back?"
"Oh no, no such luck," laughed Corliss. "I just wanted to talk to you. I like servicemen, and I especially like you. I wanted to ask you if you wouldn't make a date with me for this evening. We could go to the movies first, and then you could take me dancing. I'm just sick to death of all this funeral business and I want to have a little fun. I thought you would show me a good time."
The young man gave her a puzzled look. "That would be impossible," he said. "I have to catch a train back to the barracks."
"Well, miss your old train, then, and stay with me. There are always more trains. Besides, I want you! I'm fed up with all the solemnity, and I've got to get out and see some life. Miss your old train. Come on!" There was wheedling in the blue eyes lifted to his, but there was only firmness, almost severity, in the eyes of the young officer.
"Haven't you heard that there is a war?" he said. "When one is in the service one does not miss trains. Here comes my bus. Good night!" And he was gone.
Corliss—baffled, angry—stood and watched the bus disappear around the next corner and then went furiously back to the house to see what other deviltry she could think up.
