and crossed over to it. "You don't seem to 'ave taken much 'arm during
my--my going after work."

"We 'ad it for the funeral, John," said his wife; "leastways, we 'ad two;
this is the second."

Mr. Blows, who had filled the glass, set it down on the table untasted;
things seemed a trifle uncanny.

"Go on," said Mrs. Blows; "you've got more right to it than anybody else.
Fancy 'aving you here drinking up the beer for your own funeral."

"I don't understand what you're a-driving at," retorted Mr. Blows,
drinking somewhat gingerly from the glass. 'Ow could there be a funeral
without me?"

"It's all a mistake," said the overjoyed Mrs. Blows; "we must have buried
somebody else. But such a funeral, John; you would ha' been proud if you
could ha' seen it. All Gravelton followed, nearly. There was the boys'
drum and fife band, and the Ancient Order of Camels, what you used to
belong to, turned out with their brass band and banners--all the people
marching four abreast and sometimes five."

Mr. Blows's face softened; he had no idea that he had established himself
so firmly in the affections of his fellow-townsmen.

"Four mourning carriages," continued his wife, "and the--the hearse, all
covered in flowers so that you couldn't see it 'ardly. One wreath cost
two pounds."