'
"He shook hands with the widow and sauntered out. Ten more minutes
passed and now there were left only the widow herself and a trio of
elderly men, all silent. As I hung about, trying to look unbounded
sympathy at the group, it dawned upon me that they were beginning to
eye me uneasily. I took a sponge cake and another glass of wine. One
of the men--who wore a high stock and an edging of stiff grey hair
around his bald head--advanced to me.
"'This funeral,' said he, 'is over.'
"'Yes, yes,' I stammered, and choked over a sip of sherry.
"'We are waiting--let me tap you on the back--'
"'Thank you.'
"'We are waiting to read the will.'
"I escaped from the room and rushed down to the stables. The ostler
was harnessing the one brown horse that remained.
"I was thinking you wouldn't be long, sir. You're the very last, I
believe, and here ends a long day's work.'
"I drove off. It was near seven by this, but I didn't even think of
the night-class. I was wondering if the horse I drove were really
Trumpeter. Somehow--whether because his feed of corn pricked him or no
I can't say--he seemed a deal livelier than on the outward journey.
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