![]() The gathering for the last good-bye. | Then a small, anguished voice of a young boy pierced the ladened morbity. Straining against his mother's hand, he cried, "Daddy! Daddy! Where are you?" As if answering, thunder rolled like an on-coming train. Everyone turned, expecting a tornado. A sudden gush of icy wind blasted the mourners. Women clasped their small, expensive black hats to their heads. The widow turned her beautiful overwrought face away from the rude wind. |