Esther went her way and thought no more of the orphan, but Mrs. Murray
carried the weight of all New York on her mind. Not the least of her
anxieties was the condition of her brother-in-law, Esther's father. He
was now a confirmed invalid, grateful for society and amusement, and
almost every day he expected his sister-in-law to take him to drive, if
the weather was tolerable. The tax was severe, but she bore it with
heroism, and his gratitude sustained her. When she came for him the next
morning, she found him reading as usual, and waiting for her. "I was
just wondering," said he, "whether I could read five minutes longer
without a stimulant. Do you know that indiscriminate reading is a
fiendish torture. No convict could stand it. I seldom take up a book in
these days without thinking how much more amusing it would be to jolt
off on a bright day at the head of a funeral procession. Between the two
ways of amusing one's-self, I am principled against books."

"You have a very rough way of expressing your tastes," said Mrs. Murray
with a shiver, as they got into her carriage. "Do you know, I never
could understand the humor of joking about funerals."

"That surprises me," said Mr. Dudley. "A good funeral needs a joke. If
mine is not more amusing than my friends', I would rather not go to it.
The kind of funeral I am invited to has no sort of charm. Indeed, I
don't know that I was ever asked to one that seemed to me to show an
elegant hospitality in the host."

"If you can't amuse me better, William, I will drive you home again,"
said his sister-in-law.

"Not quite yet. I have something more to say on this business of
funerals which is just now not a little on my mind."