see whether the young visitor wished to enter or whether he wished to give some message.
When Frank did not speak, she advanced several steps towards the gate, and then said “And so it is at your house, Frank, is it? Wait and I will go and call tatinka.” And she ran into the gravedigger’s abode. Frank was lost in amazement to know how the girl could read in his face what was passing in his inmost soul. We, however, need no explanation of the mystery. They had heard the funeral bell, and Bartos had said to Staza “Where is it, I wonder?” And he waited expecting some one to give orders about a grave. Staza now saw Frank and said, as if repeating her father’s question, “And so it is at your house!”
When Bartos sallied forth with Staza he had already a pick on his shoulder and Staza had in her hands a shovel, wherewith, apparently, to throw out of the grave the loosened clods of earth. Bartos went directly to the gate, and said in a peaceful manner “My dear Frank, perhaps it is grandfather, eh?” “It is grandfather,” responded Frank in a voice still half drowned in tears. “Grandfather, grandfather,” repeated Bartos to himself while opening the gate. “Ah! well a day, none escape the bed I make them here. Some of us fight longer than others against being sleepy, but each sleeps once.”
Frank stepped into the burial ground and handed over the measure. “The measure!” said Bartos,
