"Where would you like to be buried if you were a Methodist?"
asked Faith cheerfully.

This opened up an interesting field of speculation.

"There isn't much choice. The place is full," said Jerry. "I'D
like that corner near the road, I guess. I could hear the teams
going past and the people talking."

"I'd like that little hollow under the weeping birch," said Una.
"That birch is such a place for birds and they sing like mad in
the mornings."

"I'd take the Porter lot where there's so many children buried.
_I_ like lots of company," said Faith. "Carl, where'd you?"

"I'd rather not be buried at all," said Carl, "but if I had to be
I'd like the ant-bed. Ants are AWF'LY int'resting."

"How very good all the people who are buried here must have
been," said Una, who had been reading the laudatory old epitaphs.
"There doesn't seem to be a single bad person in the whole
graveyard. Methodists must be better than Presbyterians after
all."

"Maybe the Methodists bury their bad people just like they do
cats," suggested Carl. "Maybe they don't bother bringing them to
the graveyard at all."