deep, and the black seals must have consumed a stick of sealing-wax
among them. They contained the gloves and the scarves, which were
lightly gathered together in the middle with knots of black gauze
ribbon.

How exquisitely absurd Jem and I must have looked with four yards of
stiff black silk attached to our little hats I can imagine, if I cannot
clearly remember. My dear mother dressed us and saw us off (for, with
some curious relic of pre-civilized notions, women were not allowed to
appear at funerals), and I do not think she perceived anything odd in
our appearance. She was very gentle, and approved of everything that was
considered right by the people she was used to, and she had only two
anxieties about our scarves: first, that they should show the full four
yards of respect to the memory of the deceased; and secondly, that we
should keep them out of the dust, so that they might "come in useful
afterwards."

She fretted a little because she had not thought of changing our gloves for
smaller sizes (they were eight and a quarter); but my father "pish"ed and
"pshaw"ed, and said it was better than if they had been too small, and that
we should be sure to be late if my mother went on fidgeting. So we pulled
them on--with ease--and picked up the tails of our hatbands--with
difficulty--and followed my father, our hearts beating with pride, and my
mother and the maids watching us from the door. We arrived quite
half-an-hour earlier than we need have done, but the lane was already
crowded with complimentary carriages, and curious bystanders, before whom
we held our heads and hatbands up; and the scent of the wild roses was lost
for that day in an all-pervading atmosphere of black dye. We were very
tired, I remember, by the time that our turn came to be put into a carriage
by Mr. Soot, who murmured--"Pocket-handkerchiefs, gentlemen"--and,