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then he clumb straight back up his ladder; 'n' Dr. Brown said's she died o' the complete seclusion of her aspirational 'n' bronchoid tubes. I c'u'd see 't the newspaper man didn't know how to spell it, 'n' he told young Dr. Brown any such doin's 'd squeeze the cod-liver oil over into next week, which couldn't be considered for a minute. 'N' then he went on to say 't if folks want to die o' more 'n one line, they've got to do it Tuesday night, or at the very latest Wednesday afore ten o'clock, if it's to be got in right.

"Well, next come the funeral; 'n' I will say right here 'n' now 't the way's the widows closed in around Deacon White was enough to send any man up a ladder. There was Mrs. Macy's was actually ready 'n' waitin' to lay Mrs. White out afore she was dead. 'N' Mrs. Macy isn't one 's any one 'd rashly set about makin' love to, I shouldn't suppose. I've always understood 's there's a while 't they sit on laps; 'n' the lap ain't built 's could take pleasure in holdin' Mrs. Macy. But she was on hand, all the same, 'n' 's beamin' 's if she stood a show.

"'N' then there was Gran'ma Mullins! I was perfectly dumb did up at the doin's o' Gran'ma Mullins. I'd always looked on her 's a very deservin' mother to Hiram, 'n' one's any one c'u'd trust 's to doughnuts fer sociables; but when she come to Mrs. White's funeral with her hair frizzed, I give up. Gran'ma Mullins—at her age—at the funeral of a widower's dead wife—'n' her hair frizzed! Well, Mrs. Lathrop, if I was on my way to my own hangin' I sh'u'd still say 't to my order o' thinkin' it wasn't proper mournin'.

"Not 's there wasn't others up to the same doin's. The first night Mrs. Allen sent Polly over with one dish o' ice-cream 'n' one slice o' cake for the deacon's supper,—'n' me there 's plain 's day sittin' up alternate with Mr. Jilkins. 'N' Mrs. Allen didn't make no bones about it, neither; she said frank 'n' open 't her disapp'intment over Sam Duruy'd aged Polly right up to where only a' elderly man 'd be anywise fit fer her, 'n' she said she was teachin' her 'Silver threads among the gold' 'n' how to read aloud 't the tip-top o' your voice. I didn't discourage her none. I told her 't there wasn't many like the deacon, 'n' that come true right off; fer we heard a' awful crash, 'n' it was then 't he fell through the ceilin' into Phæbe's room, 'n' a pretty job we had sweepin' up his dust.

"The minister come in while we was sweepin'. He certainly does come to call always at very uncomfortable times; but I suppose everybody's got to have a cross, 'n' ours 's him. Anyway, he wanted to know about if it'd be agreeable to the family to have Mrs. White discoursed on 's a faithful handmaid, 'cause he didn't want to have to alter her after he'd got it all copied. He said there was the choice o' a bondwoman o' the Lord 'n' a light in Israel, too. We had to go 'n' holler the deacon a long time, 'n' finally we found him out settin' a hen. I didn't think 's he'd ought to 'a' set a hen the day o' his wife's funeral—I didn't think much o' settin' hens any time; it's set 'n' set, 'n' then half the time all you get is a weazel.

"Well, he come in at last, 'n' he wouldn't hear o' havin' his wife called a handmaid, 'cause, he said, it was him 's had always done all the work. The minister said it was astonishin' what Liza Em'ly could get through in a mornin', 'n' then he coughed; 'n' Mrs. Macy said 't Liza Em'ly was very helpful for a child o' her age, 'n' then she coughed; 'n' then the deacon went back to his hen, 'n' the minister sighed 'n' went, too."

Mrs. Lathrop herself sighed as Susan paused.

"I remember—" she said slowly.

"It was a nice funeral, though," her friend continued; "I never see a nicer one, even if Mrs. White wasn't able to look after nothin' herself. Mr. Kimball got down to business like it'd always been his business, 'n' the way he hustled things through was a lesson to them 's takes a whole afternoon to one member of a family. He took all the table-leaves 'n' laid 'em from chair to chair, so 's everybody had a seat; 'n' then, 's folks come in, he had Billy hand 'em each a fan with his advertisement on one side 'n' two rows o' readin' on the other, so 's no one got dull waitin'.

"'N' then I never shall forget what a neat job he done with the dove. You know 's well 's I do 't it's hard on the dove, 'n' always has been hard on the dove, to go to every funeral 'n' be the window advertisement between deaths. I've told you before how it was freely remarked in the square, after Mrs. Dill's burial, as the way the dove looked there