in the place of her birth, among the townspeople
with whom her whole existence had been passed, every eye was tearless
that looked on her funeral procession; the two strangers who made part
of it, gossiped pleasantly as they rode after the hearse about the news
of the morning; and the sole surviving member of her family, whom chance
had brought to her door on her burial-day, stood aloof from the hired
mourners, and moved not a step to follow her to the grave.

No: not a step. The hearse rolled on slowly towards the churchyard, and
the sight-seers in the lane followed it; but Matthew Grice stood by the
garden paling, at the place where he had halted from the first. What was
her death to him? Nothing but the loss of his first chance of tracing
Arthur Carr. Tearlessly and pitilessly she had left it to strangers to
bury her brother's daughter; and now, tearlessly and pitilessly, there
stood her brother's son, leaving it to strangers to bury _her._

"Don't you mean to follow to the churchyard, and see the last of it?"
inquired the same inquisitive voice, which had twice already endeavored
to attract Mat's attention.

He turned round this time to look at the speaker, and confronted
a wizen, flaxen-haired, sharp-faced man, dressed in a jaunty
shooting-jacket, carrying a riding-cane in his hand, and having a
thorough-bred black-and-tan terrier in attendance at his heels.

"Excuse me asking the question," said the wizen man; "but I noticed how
dumbfoundered you were when you saw the coffin come out. 'A friend of
the deceased,' I thought to myself directly--"

"Well," interrupted Mat, gruffly, "suppose I am; what then?"

"Will you oblige me by putting this in your pocket?" asked the wizen
man, giving Mat a card. "My name's Tatt, and I've recently started
in practice here as a solicitor. I don't want to ask any improper
questions, but, being a friend of the deceased, you may perhaps have
some claim on the estate; in which case, I should feel proud to take
care of your interests. It isn't strictly professional, I know, to be
touting for the chance of a client in this way; but I'm obliged to do it
in self-defense. Dix, Nawby, Millbury, and Gutteridge, all play into one
another's hands, and want to monopolize among 'em the whole Doctoring,
Lawyering, Undertaking, and Licensed Victualling business of Dibbledean.
I've made up my mind to break down Nawby's monopoly, and keep as much
business out of his office as I can. That's why I