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We took it out in gum spruce and pepsin. Iry swallered his'n every time, and Miss Hudgers was afeard he'd be stuck together inside. "'Aug. 9-23. Vawdevil Theayter. 5 dollers. Pade. They put it on fer a sketch. "'Aug. 25. Mister Cotter. 25 cents. Pade. He's a brakeman friend of the Boarder. He wore it to a maskyrade. "'Aug. 27. Poleece. 35 cents. Pade." "Police!" ejaculated John faintly.

This structure was a source of mystery and excitement to the neighbors. "What on airth do you suppose them Jenkinses air aputtin' up now? Mebby it's a wash-house for the surpluses," speculated Mrs. Huce. "It can't be they air agoin' to keep a hoss!" ejaculated Mrs. Wint. "You never kin tell nuthin' about them Jenkinses. They're so sort of secretin' like," lamented Mrs. Hudgers.

Hudgers looked incredulous. "I seen the chillern agoin' hum from school," she maintained. "Them was the Jenkinses, Iry hez come down with the scarlit fever, and they're all in quarrytine." "How you talk! Wait till I put the kittle offen the bile." The two neighbors sat down to discuss this affliction with the ready sympathy of the poor for the poor.

"I dunno yit. I left it to the preacher. He said he'd git me a picked choir, whatever that may be." "My! But you'll hev a fine funeral!" exclaimed Amarilly admiringly. "I allers did say that when Hallie got merried, or died, things should be done right. Thar's jest one thing I can't hev." "What's that, Mrs. Hudgers?"

"I'm agoin' to give Hallie a good funeral," Mrs. Hudgers confided to Amarilly. "I'm agoin' to hev hacks and flowers and singin' If yer St. Mark's man was to hum now, I should like to have him fishyate." "Who will you git?" asked Amarilly interestedly. "I'll hev the preacher from the meetin'-house on the hill, Brother Longgrass." "I wonder," speculated Amarilly, "if he'd like to wear the surplus?"

Foremost as the plumes of Henry of Navarre in battle were the surplice and the renting thereof in Amarilly's vision. "I don't expect he could do that," replied Mrs. Hudgers doubtfully. "His church most likely wouldn't stand fer it. Brother Longgrass is real kind if he ain't my sort. He's agoin' to let the boys run the maylodeun down here the night afore the funyral." "Who's agoin' to sing?"

Divided between dread of appearing in public and pride at the importance with which she was regarded by her little flock, Mrs. Jenkins was quite upset by the occasion. She hadn't attended a function for so long that her costuming therefor was of more concern than had been Amarilly's church raiment. Mrs. Hudgers loaned her mourning bonnet and veil, which was adjusted at half mast.

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.

Nobody can't go on without no clock." Out of pity for the old woman's sequestered life, Amarilly was wont to relate to her all the current events, and it was through the child's keen, young optics that Mrs. Hudgers saw life. An eloquent and vivid description of St. Mark's service was eagerly related. "I allers thought I'd like to see them Episcopals," she remarked regretfully.

"I am glad you think of your mother, my lad, but it would be well to let some older person select it for you. My housekeeper " Bud's refusal was emphatic. He knew the kind of hat his mother wanted, and he had noted her quickly suppressed look of disappointment at the sombre hat donated by Mrs. Hudgers on the day of the police-court attendance.