's the question." "Well, Mr. Footley," says I, "for
my own private opinion, when you've got a nice brass plite in the
middle, an' nice brass 'andles each end, there's nothin' like hoak."
"Quite right," says 'e, "thet's wot I think; for coffins give me hoak
any day, an' I 'ope," says 'e, "when the Lord sees fit ter call me to
'Imself, I shall be put in a hoak coffin myself." "Amen," says I.'

'I like hoak,' said Mrs. Kemp. 'My poor 'usband 'e 'ad a hoak coffin.
We did 'ave a job with 'im, I can tell yer. You know 'e 'ad dropsy,
an' 'e swell up--oh, 'e did swell; 'is own mother wouldn't 'ave known
'im. Why, 'is leg swell up till it was as big round as 'is body, swop
me bob, it did.'

'Did it indeed!' ejaculated Mrs. Hodges.

'Yus, an' when 'e died they sent the coffin up. I didn't 'ave Mr.
Footley at thet time; we didn't live 'ere then, we lived in Battersea,
an' all our undertikin' was done by Mr. Brownin'; well, 'e sent the
coffin up, an' we got my old man in, but we couldn't get the lid down,
he was so swell up. Well, Mr. Brownin', 'e was a great big man,
thirteen stone if 'e was a ounce. Well, 'e stood on the coffin, an' a
young man 'e 'ad with 'im stood on it too, an' the lid simply wouldn't
go dahn; so Mr. Browning', 'e said, "Jump on, missus," so I was in my
widow's weeds, yer know, but we 'ad ter git it dahn, so I stood on it,
an' we all jumped, an' at last we got it to, an' screwed it; but,
lor', we did 'ave a job; I shall never forget it.'

Then all was silence. And a heaviness seemed to fill the air like a
grey blight, cold and suffocating; and the heaviness was Death. They
felt the presence in the room, and they dared not move, they dared not
draw their breath. The silence was terrifying.

Suddenly a sound was heard--a loud rattle. It was from the bed and
rang through the room, piercing the stillness.

The doctor opened one of Liza's eyes and touched it, then he laid on
her breast the hand he had been holding, and drew the sheet over her
head.

Jim turned away with a look of intense weariness on his face, and the
two women began weeping silently. The darkness was sinking before the
day, and a dim, grey light came through the window. The lamp
spluttered out.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Liza of Lambeth, by W. Somerset Maugham

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