shett?" asked mother.

"It's two men sellin' a patent iron kiver for to protect the graves of
your dead from the sun an' the rain."

"Who wants the graves of their dead protected from the sun and the
rain?" demanded my mother sharply.

"I said to Josiah, 'I don't know how she'll feel about it, but I can't
do more than ask.'"

"Do they carry a sample? What is it like?"

"Jest the len'th an' width of a grave. They got from baby to
six-footer sizes. They are cast iron like the bottom of a cook stove
on the under side, but atop they are polished so they shine somethin'
beautiful. You can get them in a solid piece, or with a hole in the
centre about the size of a milk crock to set flowers through. They
come ten to the grave, an' they are mighty stylish lookin' things. I
have been savin' all I could skimp from butter, an' eggs, to get
Samantha a organ; but says I to her: 'You are gettin' all I can do for
you every day; there lays your poor brother 'at ain't had a finger
lifted for him since he was took so sudden he was gone before I knowed
he was goin'.' I never can get over Henry bein' took the way he was,
so I says: 'If this would be a nice thing to have for Henry's grave,
and the neighbours are goin' to have them for theirn, looks to me like
some of the organ money will have to go, an' we'll make it up later.'
I don't 'low for Henry to be slighted bekase he rid himself to death
trying to make a president out of his pa's gin'ral."

"You never told me how you lost your son," said mother, feeling so
badly she wiped one of my eyes full of oil.

"Law now, didn't I?" inquired Mrs. Freshett. "Well mebby that is
bekase I ain't had a chance to tell you much of anythin', your bein'
always so busy like, an' me not wantin' to wear out my welcome. It was
like this: All endurin' the war Henry an' me did the best we could
without pa at home, but by the time it was over, Henry was most a man.
Seemed as if when he got home, his pa was all tired out and glad to set
down an' rest, but Henry was afire to be up an' goin'. His pa filled
him so full o' Grant, it was runnin' out of his ears. Come the second
run the Gin'ral made, peered like Henry set out to 'lect him all by
hisself. He wore every horse on the place out, ridin' to rallies.
Sometimes he was gone three days at a stretch. He'd git one place an'
hear of a rally on ten miles or so furder, an' blest if he didn't ride
plum acrost the state 'fore he got through with