And Mrs. Banger hesitated a moment, turned very red, and answered,

"That is--that man is--a--a--he is, I believe--a--a--a--a some kind of
a--an undertaker."

Then Banger looked gloomy and went up stairs to ponder. But Mrs.
Banger felt that she had a duty to perform in taking care that the lot
in the cemetery should not fall into such disorder as Mr. Toombs had
indicated, and she resolved to call upon Mr. Mix, at his monumental
marble-works, to get him to attend to the matter for her. Mr. Mix did
not know her, and his ignorance of her past history turned out to be
unfortunate. The following conversation occurred between them:

_Mrs. Banger_. "Mr. Mix, I am anxious to have my cemetery lot fixed
up--to put in new tombstones and reset the railing; and I called to
see if I could make some satisfactory arrangement with you."

_Mix_. "Certainly, madam. Tell me precisely what it is you want done."

_Mrs. B_. "Well, I'd like to have a new tombstone put over the grave
of John--my husband, you know--and to have a nice inscription cut in
it, 'Here lies John Smyth,' etc., etc. You know what I mean; the usual
way, of course, and maybe some kind of a design on the stone like a
broken rosebud or something."

_Mix_. "I understand."

_Mrs. B_. "Well, then, what'll you charge me for getting up a
headstone just like that, out of pretty good white marble, and with a