You don't think they'll fine
us?"
"It all comes of our stoppin' to gaze at that Punch-an'-Judy," the old
fellow went on, after I had shown them how to turn back the arm-seats,
and they were settled in something like comfort. "But I never _could_
refrain from that antic, though I feels condemned too, in a way, an'
poor Thomas laid in earth no longer ago than twelve noon. But in the
midst of life we are in death."
"I don't remember a more successful buryin'," said the woman who held
the little girl.
"That was partly luck, as you may say, it bein' regatta-day an' the
fun o' the fair not properly begun. I counted a lot at the cemetery I
didn' know by face, an' I set 'em down for excursionists, that caught
sight of a funeral, an' followed it to fill up the time."
"It all added."
"Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully interred."
By this time the heat in the carriage was hardly more overpowering
than the smell of crape, broadcloth, and camphor. The youth who had
wedged himself next to me carried a large packet of "fairing," which
he had bought at one of the sweet-stalls.
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