sweet little fellow!"

"Other people have lost children as well as she," remarked a
sour-looking dame. "Rich people, thank heaven! have to feel as well
as we poor folks."

No one seemed disposed to reply to this; and there was a momentary
silence.

"They've got up mourning mighty quick," said a third speaker.
"Little Willie only died yesterday morning."

"It's most all borrowed, I suppose," responded a fourth.

"Hardly," said the other.

"Yes, but I know that it is, though," added the individual who made
the allegation of borrowing; "because, you see, Lucy, the
chambermaid, told me last night, that Mrs. Condy had sent her to
borrow her sister's black bombazine, and that the girls were all
hard enough put to it to know where to get something decent to
attend the funeral in."

"No doubt, they thought more about mourning dresses, than they did
about the dead child," remarked the cynic of the group.

"It's a shame, Mrs. Grime, for you to talk in that way about any
one," replied the woman who had first spoken.

"It's the truth, Mrs. Myers," retorted Mrs. Grime. "By their works