"I dun'no' what you mean," half whimpered Belinda.

"No, I don't s'pose you do," returned Ann. "There's one thing about
it--folks can always tell what _you_ mean. You don't mean nothin',
an' never did. You couldn't be put in a dictionary. Noah Webster
couldn't find any meanin' fer you if he was to set up all night." A
nervous sob shook Mrs. Edwards's little frame. She was almost
hysterical that morning. Her black eyes were brightly dilated, her
mouth tremulous, and her throat swollen.

Paulina Maria grasped Belinda by the shoulder. "You'd better get the
broom an' sweep out the wood-shed," said she, and Belinda went out
with a limp flutter of her cotton skirts and her curls.

Jerome rode the old white horse, that could only travel at a heavy
jog, and he did not get home until noon--not much in advance of the
funeral guests he had bidden. They had directly left all else, got
out what mourning-weeds they could muster, and made ready.

When Jerome reached home, he was immediately seized by Paulina Maria.
"Go right out and wash your face and hands real clean," said she,
"and then go up-stairs and change your clothes. I've laid them out on
the bed. When you get to the neckerchief, you come down here, and
I'll tie it for you; it's your father's. You've got to wear somethin'
black, to be decent."

Jerome obeyed. All the incipient masculine authority in him was
overwhelmed by this excess of feminine strength. He washed his face
and hands faithfully, and donned his little clean, coarse shirt and