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He was quite tall, and wore a dark suit with a bowler hat. If he had not introduced himself I would have thought he was a mourner. I had probably seen him before, but could not remember him.
    "I am not saying that cremation should never be practiced," Mrs. Coleman went on. "For non-Christians it can be an option. The Hindu and the Jew. Atheists and suicides. Those sorts who don't care about their souls. But I am truly shocked to see such a thing sited on consecrated ground. It should have been placed in the Dissenters' section, where the ground is not blessed. Here it is an offense to Christianity."
    "Those whose remains lie in the columbarium were certainly Christian, madam," Mr. Jackson said.
    "But what about reassembly? How can the body and soul be reunited on the Day of Resurrection if the body has been ..." Mrs. Coleman did not complete her sentence, but waved a hand at the cubicles.
    "Burnt to a crisp," Maude finished for her. I stifled a giggle.
    Rather than wilting under her onslaught, Mr. Jackson seemed to grow from it. He stood quite calmly, hands clasped behind his back, as if he were discussing a mathematical equation rather than a sticky question of theology. Maude and I, and the Waterhouses--Lavinia having recovered by this time--all stared at him, waiting for him to speak.
    "Surely there is no difference between the decomposed remains of a buried body and the ashes of a burnt one," he said.
    "There is all the difference!" Mrs. Coleman sputtered. "But this is a most distasteful argument, especially in front of our girls here, one of whom has just recovered from a fit."
    Mr. Jackson looked around as if he were just seeing the rest of us. "My apologies, ladies." He bowed (again). "I did not mean to offend." But then he did not leave the argument, as Mrs. Coleman clearly wanted him to. "I would simply say that God is capable of all things, and nothing we do with our remains will stop Him if He wishes to reunite our souls with our bodies."
    There was a little silence then, punctuated by a tiny gasp from Gertrude Waterhouse. The implication behind his words--that with her argument Mrs. Coleman might be doubting the power of God Himself--was not lost on her. Nor on Mrs. Coleman, who, for the first time since I have known her, seemed at a loss for words. It was not a long moment, of course, but it was an immensely satisfying one.
    "Young man," Mrs. Coleman said finally, "if God wanted us to burn our dead He would have said so in the Bible. Come, Maude," she said, turning her back on him, "it is time we paid a visit to our grave."
    As she led away a reluctant Maude, Mr. Jackson glanced at me and I smiled at him. He bowed for the fourth time, muttered something about having a great deal to do, and rushed off, quite red in the face.
    Well, I thought. Well.

Lavinia Waterhouse
    I didn't mean to faint, really I didn't. I know Maude thinks I bring it on deliberately, but I didn't--not this time. It was just that when I looked into the columbarium, I was sure I saw a little movement. I thought it might be the ghost of one of the poor souls with their ashes in there, hovering about in search of its body. Then I felt something touch the back of my neck and I knew it must be a ghost, and I fainted.
    When I told Maude afterward what had happened she said it was probably the shadow from the cedar against the back wall of the columbarium. But I know what I saw, and it was not of this world.
    Afterward I felt quite wretched, but no one paid any attention to me, not even to get me a glass of water--they were all agog at that man talking about burning and whatnot. I could not follow what he said at all, it was so tedious.
    Then Maude's grandmother dragged her off, and our mothers began to follow, and only Ivy May waited for me. She can be a dear sometimes. I got to my feet and was brushing off my dress when I heard a noise above me and looked up to see Simon on the roof of the columbarium! I couldn't help but scream, what with the