She took a shower after a particularly harsh volleyball debacle only to find that her locker had been picked and her outfit of the day, gray sweatpants and a shapeless pink sweater, were gone. The dress was her mother's, and she was wearing it to save a little extra money. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. Capes was something superadded. " "A bold resolution," said the woollen-draper. ’ Martha looked up, belligerence in her tone. Wood," she continued, in an authoritative tone, seeing her husband ready to depart, "one word before you set out. . “I think that it is only an idea. But that possibility had been anticipated.
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