The funeral passed off with great eclat. The picked choir had resonant
voices, and Brother Longgrass preached one of his longest sermons,
considerately omitting reference to any of the characteristics of the
deceased. Mrs. Hudgers was suitably attired in donated and dusty black.
The extremely unconventional garb of Hallie caused some little comment,
but it was commonly supposed to be a part of the Episcopalian spirit
which the Jenkinses seemed to be inculcating in the neighborhood.
Brother Longgrass was a little startled upon beholding the white-robed
corpse, but perceiving what comfort it brought to the afflicted mother,
he magnanimously forbore to allude to the matter.

After the remains had been viewed for the last time, the surplice was
removed. In the evening Amarilly called for it.

"He did look handsome in it," commented Mrs. Hudgers with a satisfied,
reminiscent smile. "I wish I might of hed his likeness took. I'm agoin'
to make you take hum this pan of fried cakes Mrs. Holdock fetched in.
They'll help fill up the chillern."

"I don't want to rob you, Mrs. Hudgers," said Amarilly, gazing longingly
at the doughnuts, which were classed as luxuries in the Jenkins's menu.

"I dassent eat 'em, Amarilly. If I et jest one, I'd hev dyspepsy orful,
and folks hez brung in enough stuff to kill me now. It does beat all the
way they bring vittles to a house of mournin'! I only wish Hallie could
hev some of 'em."