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Updated: July 18, 2025
Lathrop, as there ain't a mite o' doubt but what if the honeymoon come just afore the funeral there'd be a deal more sincere mournin' than there is as it is now, an' to my order of thinkin', if the grandchildren come afore the children, folks would raise their families wiser. I told Gran'ma Mullins just that very thing but it did n't seem to give her much comfort.
"Well, she won't do it, I can tell you that," remarked Miss Port. "She'll get tired enough of this place before the summer's out." "We shall see about that," said the captain, "but she is not tired yet." "And her mother's dead, and she's wearin' no mournin'." "Why should she?" said the captain. "It would be a shame for a young girl like her to be wearing black for two years."
But I'd just like to ask you this: Does that Fenholtz hired help have to wear black clothes like this dress?" "Yes, always." "Well, then I suppose I'll have to do the same, but I hope they don't feel as much like bein' in mournin' as I do.
Well, the last minute come and Ury took us to the train. Josiah went with me, but he couldn't have driv no more than a mournin' weed could. I parted with the children, and oh! it wuz a hard wrench on my heart to part with Thomas J.; took pale little Tommy in my arms, like pullin' out his pa's heart-strings and his ma's, too and at last the deepo wuz reached.
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."
Then his face went scarlet, as a memory occurred to him. "Say, White Point's around the corner. And that's where we'll find that hop-headed agent if he ain't done up. Anyways, if he ain't why, I guess we'll just set him playin' a miser-arey over his miser'ble wires, that'll set 'em diggin' out a funeral hearse and mournin' coaches in that dogasted prairie sepulcher Amberley." Mr.
Mis' Fire Chief Merriman, she went right through the wet grass, cross lots an' round graves, holdin' up her mournin' an' showin' blue beneath kind o' secular, like her thinkin' about the all-silk ribbin at such a time. Sure enough, she knew her way to the lot all right. An' there was the new grave, all sodered green, an' not a sprig nor a stitch to honour it.
Then the people in the village joined in the wail, and it came over and over again from the multitude. It was inexpressibly mournful and the dark forest gave it back in weird echoes. The procession poured on in a great horde toward the village, but the cry, full of grief and lament still came back. "They are mournin' for the warriors lost in the East," said Tom Ross.
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