The tones of her voice brought out the poignant and immortal beauty and pathos of that wonderful old lament . The girls wiped their eyes ; and we boys felt as if we might have done so , too , had nobody been looking . What better epitaph could any one wish than to have it said that he was lovely and pleasant in his life ? When I heard the Story Girl read it I made a secret compact with myself that I would try to deserve such an epitaph . `` I wish I had a family plot , '' said Peter , rather wistfully . `` I have n't ANYTHING you fellows have . The Craigs are just buried anywhere they happen to die . '' `` I 'd like to buried here when I die , '' said Felix . `` But I hope it wo n't be for a good while yet , '' he added in a livelier tone , as we moved onward to the church . The interior of the church was as old-fashioned as its exterior . It was furnished with square box pews ; the pulpit was a `` wine-glass '' one , and was reached by a steep , narrow flight of steps . Uncle Alec 's pew was at the top of the church , quite near the pulpit . Peter 's appearance did not attract as much attention as we had fondly expected . Indeed , nobody seemed to notice him at all . The lamps were not yet lighted and the church was filled with a soft twilight and hush . Outside , the sky was purple and gold and silvery green , with a delicate tangle of rosy cloud above the elms . `` Is n't it awful nice and holy in here ? '' whispered Peter reverently . `` I did n't know church was like this . It 's nice . ''
Felicity frowned at him , and the Story Girl touched her with her slippered foot to remind him XXXXX he must not talk in church .
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