e best
left to silence themselves by mutual recrimination. The fact is that
the authentic scene of the affair was a third-class railway carriage
belonging to the North Staffordshire Railway Company, and rolling on
that company's loop-line between Longshaw and Hanbridge. The undertaker
is now dead--it is a disturbing truth that even undertakers die
sometimes--and since his widow has given me permission to mention his
name, I shall mention his name. It was Edward Till. Of course everybody
in the Five Towns knows who the undertaker was, and if anybody in the
Five Towns should ever chance to come across this book, I offer him my
excuses for having brought coals to Newcastle.

Mr Till used to be a fairly well-known figure in Hanbridge, which is
the centre of undertaking, as it is of everything else, in the Five
Towns. He was in a small but a successful way of business, had one leg
a trifle shorter than the other (which slightly deteriorated the
majesty of his demeanour on solemn occasions), played the fiddle, kept
rabbits, and was of a forgetful disposition. It was possibly this
forgetful disposition which had prevented him from rising into a large
way of business. All admired his personal character and tempered
geniality; but there are some things that will not bear forgetting.
However, the story touches but lightly that side of his individuality.

One morning Mr Till had to go to Longshaw to fetch a baby's coffin
which had been ordered under the mistaken impression that a certain
baby was dead. This baby, I may mention, was the hero of the celebrated
scare of Longshaw about the danger of being buried alive. The little
thing had apparently passed away; and, what is more, an inquest had
been held on it and its parents had been censured by the jury for
criminal carelessness in overlaying it; and it was within five minutes
of being nailed up, when it opened its eyes! You may imagine the
enormous sensation that there was in the Five Towns. One doctor lost
his reputation, naturally. He emigrated to the Continent, and now,
practising at Lucerne in the summer and Mentone in the winter, charges
fifteen shillings a visit (instead of three and six at Longshaw) for
informing people who have nothing the matter with them that they must
take care of themselves. The parents of the astonished baby moved the
heaven and earth of the Five Towns to force the coroner to withdraw the
stigma of the jury's censure; but they did not succeed, not e