"'Why--oh, _'leven'_,' s'I, 'that ain't a name at all. That's a number.'

"'I know it,' s'she, indiffer'nt, 'that was me. I was the 'leventh, an'
they'd run out a'ready.'

"'For the land,' s'I, simple.

"An' that just about summed her up. They seemed to 'a' run out o'
everything, time she come.

"She hadn't been taught a thing but eat an' drink. Them was her only
arts. Excep' for one thing: When I ask' her what she could do, if any,
she says like she had on the street corner:--

"'I can't do nothin'. I donno no work.'

"'You think it over,' s'I. She had rill capable hands--them odd,
undressed-lookin' hands--I donno if you know what I mean?

"'Well,' s'she, sort o' sheepish, 'I can comb hair. Ma was allus sick
an' me an' Big Lil--she's the same floor--combed her hair for her. But I
could do it nicest.'

"Wan't that a curious happenin'--an' Jennie Crapwell layin' dead with
her hair drawn tight back because none of us could do it up human?

"'Could you when dead?' s'I. 'I mean when them that has the hair is?'

"An' with that the girl turns pallor white.

"'Oh ...' s'she, 'I ain't never touched the dead. But,' s'she, sort o'
defiant at somethin', 'I could do it, I guess, if you want I should.'

"Kind o' like a handle stickin' out from what would 'a' been her
character, if she'd hed one, that was, I thought. An', too, I see what
it'd mean to her if she knew she was wearin' a shroud, casual as calico.

"But when I told her about Jennie Crapwell, an' how they had a good
picture, City-made, of her side head, she took it quite calm.

"'I'll try it,' she says, bein' as she'd done her ma's hair layin' down,
though livin'. 'Big Lil always helps dress 'Em,' she says, 'an' guess I
could do Their hair.'

"I got right up from the supper table an' took 'Leven over to Crapwell's
without waitin' for the dishes. But early as I was, the rest was there
before me. I guess they was full ten to Crapwell's when we got there,
an' 'Leven an' I, we walked into the sittin'-room right in the midst of
'em--that is, of what wasn't clearin' table or doin' dishes or sweepin'
upstairs. Mis' Timothy Toplady an' Mis' Holcomb-that-was-Mame-Bliss was
the group nearest the door--an' the both of 'em reco'nized that shroud
the minute they clamped their eyes on it. But me, bein' back o' 'Leven,
I laid my front finger on to my shut lips with a motion that must 'a'
been armies with banners. An' they see me an' kep' still, sudden an' all
pent up.