The two
men attacked the drifts with a will, and made a path to the gate. They
even attempted to break out the road, and Herrick harnessed his horse
and started for home; but he had not gone ten rods before he was forced
to turn back.
"'T ain't no use," he grumbled. "I calc'late I'm booked here till the
crack o' doom!"
"An' ter-morrer's the fun'ral," groaned Jim. "An' I can't git nowhere--
nowhere ter tell 'em not ter come!"
"Well, it don't look now as if anybody'd come--or go," snapped the
undertaker.
Saturday dawned fair and cold. Early in the morning the casket was moved
from the parlor to the attic.
There had been sharp words at the breakfast table, Herrick declaring
that he had made a sale, and refusing to take the casket back to town;
hence the move to the attic; but in spite of their caution, the sick
woman heard the commotion.
"What ye been cartin' upstairs?" she asked in a mildly curious voice.
Ella was ready for her.
"A chair," she explained smoothly; "the one that was broke in the front
room, ye know." And she did not think it was necessary to add that the
chair was not all that had been moved. She winced and changed color,
however, when her aunt observed:
"Humph! Must be you're expectin' company, Ella.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203