s," she said, "--luks jist like
life!" The three women went over to the Lecky home. It was a one-room
place. The big bed stood in the corner. The corpse was "laid out" with
the hands clasped.

The moment Eliza entered she rushed to the bed and fell on her knees
beside it. She was quiet, however, and after a moment's pause she raised
her head and laying a hand on the folded hands said: "Ah, han's ov God
t' be so cold an' still!"

Anna stood beside her until she thought she had stayed long enough, then
led her gently away. From that moment Anna directed the wake and the
funeral from her chimney-corner.

"Here's a basket ov flowers for Henry, Anna, the childther gethered thim
th' day," Maggie McKinstry said as she laid them down on the
hearthstones beside Anna.

"Ye've got some time, Maggie?"

"Oh, aye."

"Make a chain ov them an' let it go all th' way aroun' th' body, they'll
look purty that way, don't ye think so?"

"Illigant, indeed, to be shure! 'Deed I'll do it." And it was done.

To Eliza Conlon was given the task of providing refreshments. I say
"task," for after the carpenter was paid for the coffin and Jamie Scott
for the hearse there was only six shillings left.

"Get whey for th' childther," Anna said, and "childther" in this catalog
ran up into the twenties.

For the older "childther" there was something from Mrs. Lorimer's public
house--something that was kept under cover and passed around late, and
later still diluted and passed around again. Concerning this item Anna
said: "Wather it well, dear, an' save their wits; they've got little
enough now, God save us all!"

"Anna," said Sam Johnson, "I am told you have charge of Henry's wake. Is
there anything I can do?"

Sam was the tall, imperious precentor of the Mill Row meeting-house. He
was also the chief baker of the town and "looked up to" in matters
relating to morals as well as loaves.

"Mister Gwynn has promised t' read a chapther, Mister Johnson. He'll
read, maybe, the fourteenth of John. If he diz, tell him t' go aisy over
th' twelth verse an' explain that th' works He did can be done in Antrim
by any poor craither who's got th' Spirit."

Sam straightened up to his full height and in measured words said:

"Ye know, no doubt, Anna, that Misther Gwynn is a Churchman an' I'm a
Presbyterian. He wouldn't take kindly to a hint from a Mill Row maan, I
fear, especially on a disputed text."

"Well, dear knows if there's aanything this oul wor