[_She takes another sandwich._

CLARA. Trying to make people think they are on our visiting list! Using
even a funeral to get in!

MRS. HUNTER. But I _was_ glad the Worthings were here, and I thought it
_sweet_ of old Mr. Dormer to go even to the cemetery. [_Voice breaks a
little._] He never goes to balls any more, and, they say, catches cold
at the slightest change of temperature.

[_She takes a third sandwich._

BLANCHE. A great many people loved father.

MRS. HUNTER. [_Irritably._] They ought to've. It was really foolish the
way he was always doing something for somebody! How good these
sandwiches are! [_Spoken very plaintively._

JESSICA. Shall we have to economize now, mother?

MRS. HUNTER. Of course not; how dare you suggest such an injustice to
your _father_, and _before_ the flowers are withered on his grave!

[_Again becoming tearful._

[JORDAN _enters Left with a small silver tray, heaping full of letters._

Has the new writing paper come?