as laid in earth no longer ago than twelve noon. But in the
midst of life we are in death."

"I don't remember a more successful buryin'," said the woman who held
the little girl.

"That was partly luck, as you may say, it bein' regatta-day an' the
fun o' the fair not properly begun. I counted a lot at the cemetery I
didn' know by face, an' I set 'em down for excursionists, that caught
sight of a funeral, an' followed it to fill up the time."

"It all added."

"Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully interred."

By this time the heat in the carriage was hardly more overpowering
than the smell of crape, broadcloth, and camphor. The youth who had
wedged himself next to me carried a large packet of "fairing," which
he had bought at one of the sweet-stalls. He began to insert it into
his side pocket, and in his struggles drove an elbow sharply into my
ribs. I shifted my position a little.

"Tom's wife would ha' felt it a source o' pride, had she lived."

But I ceased to listen; for in moving I had happened to glance at the
further end of the carriage, and there my attention was arrested by
a curious little piece of pantomime. The little girl--a dark-eyed,
intelligent child, whose pallor was emphasised by the crape which
smothered her--was looking very closely at the old gentleman with the
hump--staring at him hard, in fact. He, on the other hand, was leaning
forward, with both hands on the knob of his malacca, his eyes bent on
the floor and his mouth squared to the surliest expression. He
seemed quite unconscious of her scrutiny, and was tapping one foot
impatiently on the floor.

After a minute I was surprised to see her lean forward and touch him
gently on the knee.

He took no notice beyond shuffling about a little and uttering a
slight growl. The woman who held her put out an arm and drew back
the child's hand reprovingly. The child paid no heed to this, but
continued to stare. Then in another minute she again bent forward, and
tapped the old gentleman's knee.

This time she fetched a louder growl from him, and an irascible glare.
Not in the least daunted, she took hold of his malacca, and shook it
to and fro in her small hand.

"I wish to heavens, madam, you'd keep your child to yourself!"

"For shame, Annie!" whispered the poor woman, cowed by his look.

But again Annie paid no heed. Instead, she pushed the malacca towards
the old gentleman, saying--

"Please, sir, will 'ee warm Mister Barrabel wi' this?"