way from Besztercebanya.
And the white altar-cloth my husband's sister embroidered. So you see we
have a right to the red thing."

"But I can't make myself ridiculous by burying some one with an umbrella
held over me when the sun is shining. You must give up the idea, Mrs.
Sranko."

Thereupon Mrs. Sranko burst into tears. What had she done to be put to
such shame, and to be refused the right to give her husband all the
honors due to the dead, and which were a comfort to the living too? What
would the villagers say of her? They would say, "Mrs. Sranko did not
even give her husband a decent funeral, they only threw him into the
grave like a beggar."

"Please do it, your reverence," she begged tearfully, and kept on wiping
her eyes with her handkerchief, until one of the corners which had been
tied in a knot came unfastened, and out fell a ten-florin note. Mrs.
Sranko picked it up, and put it carefully on the table.

"I'll give this over and above the other sum," she said, "only let us
have all the pomp possible, your honor."

At this moment Widow Adamecz rushed in from the kitchen, flourishing an
immense wooden spoon in the air.

"Yes, your reverence, Sranko was a good, pious man; not all the gossip
you hear about him is true. And even if it were, it would touch Mrs.
Gongoly as much as him, may God rest her soul. If the holy umbrella was
used at her funeral, it can be used at his too. If God is angry at its
having been used for her, He will only be a little more angry at its
being used for him; and if He was not angry then, He won't be angry now
either."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Widow Adamecz, talking such
nonsense. Don't bother me any more with your superstitions. The whole
thing is simply ridiculous."

But the two women were not to be put off.

"We know what we know," they said, nodding their heads sagely, "your
honor can't deceive us."

And they worried him to such an extent that he was obliged at last to
give way, and agreed to bring the red umbrella to Janos Sranko's
funeral, but he added as an afterthought, "That is, of course, if the
owner does not come for it before then. For it is certain that some one
left it here, and if they come for it, I shall be obliged to give it
them."

"Well," said Widow Adamecz, "as far as that goes we can sleep in peace,
for the one who brought it only walks on our planet once in a thousand
years."

Nobody appeared to claim the umbrella, and so the next d