"Joanna, may I take off my hat now?"

Her sister looked doubtful. The funeral was not ceremonially complete
till Grandfather Vine had done choking over his heel-taps, but Ellen had
undoubtedly endured a good deal with remarkable patience--her virtue
ought in justice to be rewarded. Also Joanna noticed for the first time
that she was looking grotesque as well as uncomfortable, owing perhaps
to the hat being still on hind part before. So the necessary
dispensation was granted, and Ellen further refreshed by a sip of her
sister's wine.

The guests now took their departure, each being given a memorial card of
the deceased, with a fine black edge and the picture of an urn upon it.
Ellen also was given one, at her urgent request, and ran off in
excitement with the treasure. Joanna remained with Mr. Huxtable for a
final interview.




§2

"Well," he said, "I expect you'll want me to help you a bit, Miss
Joanna."

Joanna had sat down again at the end of the table--big, tousled,
over-dressed, alive. Huxtable surveyed her approvingly. "A damn fine
woman," he said to himself, "she'll marry before long."