among them.  What she thought some of those less favored than herself thought.  When she “gave in” they would, and not before.  Up to the present time there had been no signs of “giving in” on the part of the lady, whose shoulders still hunched and whose head shook when Eudora was mentioned.  She should go to the funeral, in course, she said.  She owed it to ole Miss Harris, and she really had a good deal of respect for the nigger Jake.  So she came in her democrat wagon and straw bonnet, and because she was Mrs. Thomas, walked uninvited into the room where the coffin stood, and looked at Eudora.

“I’d forgot she was so purty.  It’s a good while sense I seen her,” she thought, a feeling of pity rising in her heart for the young girl whose face had never looked fairer than it did now with the seal of death upon it.  “And s’true’s I live she’s got a ring on her weddin’ finger!  Why didn’t she never war it afore an’ let it be known?” she said to herself, stooping down to inspect the ring, which to her dim old eyes seemed like the real coin.  “She wouldn’t lie in her coffin, an’ I b’lieve she was good after all, an’ I’ve been too hard on her,” she continued, waddling to a seat outside, and communicating her change of sentiment to the woman next to her, who told it to the next, until it was pretty generally known that “ole Miss Thomas had gin in, ’case Miss Dory had on her weddin’ ring.”

Nearly every one else present had “gin in” long before, and now that Mrs. Thomas had declared herself, the few doubtful ones followed her lead, and there were only kind, pitying words said of poor Dory, as they waited for the minister to come, and the services to begin.

CHAPTER VI

THE SERVICES

The blacks were outside the house, and the whites inside, when Jake drove his shay to the door, and the Rev. Mr. Mason alighted, wiping the sweat from his face and looking around with a good deal of curiosity.  A mulatto boy came forward to take charge of the mule, and Jake ushered the minister into the room where the coffin stood, and where were the four men he had asked to be bearers.

“I s’pose I’d or’ter of had six,” he said in a whisper; “but she’s so light, four can tote her easy, an’ they’s all very ’spectable.  No low-downs.  I means everything shall be fust-class.”

Wrapped in shawls, with her head nodding up and down, old Mrs. Harris sat, more deaf and more like a dried mummy than she had been on the occasion of the stranger’s visit.  Jake had bought her an ear trumpet, but she seldom used it, unless compelled by Mandy Ann, who now sat near her with the little girl who, at sight of Jake, started to meet him.  But, Mandy Ann held her back and whispered, “Can’t you done ’have yerself at yer mammy’s funeral an’ we the only mourners?”

The child only understood that she was to keep quiet, and sat down in her little chair, while Jake motioned to Mr. Mason that he was to see Miss Dory.