Part 10 (1/2)
”I don't expect he could do that,” replied Mrs. Hudgers doubtfully. ”His church most likely wouldn't stand fer it. Brother Longgra.s.s is real kind if he ain't my sort. He's agoin' to let the boys run the maylodeun down here the night afore the funyral.”
”Who's agoin' to sing?”
”I dunno yit. I left it to the preacher. He said he'd git me a picked choir, whatever that may be.”
”My! But you'll hev a fine funeral!” exclaimed Amarilly admiringly.
”I allers did say that when Hallie got merried, or died, things should be done right. Thar's jest one thing I can't hev.”
”What's that, Mrs. Hudgers?”
”Why, you see, Amarilly, Hallie's clo'es air sort of shabby-like, and when we git him in that s.h.i.+ny new caskit, they air agoin' to show up orful seedy. But I can't afford ter buy him a new suit jest for this onct.”
”Couldn't you rent a suit?” asked Amarilly, her ruling pa.s.sion for business still dominating.
”No; I jest can't, Amarilly. It's costin' me too much now.”
”I know it is,” sympathized Amarilly, concentrating her mind on the puzzling solution of Hallie's habiliment.
”Mrs. Hudgers,” she exclaimed suddenly, ”why can't you put the surplus on Hallie? You kin slip it on over his suit, and when the funeral's over, and they hev all looked at the corpse, you kin take it offen him.”
”Oh, that would be sweet!” cried Mrs. Hudgers, brightening perceptibly.
”Hallie would look beautiful in it, and 'twould be diffrent from any one else's funeral. How you allers think of things, Amarilly! But I ain't got no dollar to pay you fer it.”
”If you did hev one,” replied Amarilly Indignantly, ”I shouldn't let you pay fer it. We're neighbors, and what I kin do fer Hallie I want ter do.”
”Well, Amarilly, it's certainly fine fer you to feel that way. You don't think,” she added with sudden apprehension, ”that they'd think the surplus was Hallie's nights.h.i.+rt, do you?”
”Oh, no!” protested Amarilly, shocked at such a supposition. ”Besides, you kin tell them all that Hallie's laid out in a surplus. They all seen them to the concert.”
The funeral pa.s.sed off with great eclat. The picked choir had resonant voices, and Brother Longgra.s.s preached one of his longest sermons, considerately omitting reference to any of the characteristics of the deceased. Mrs. Hudgers was suitably attired in donated and dusty black.
The extremely unconventional garb of Hallie caused some little comment, but it was commonly supposed to be a part of the Episcopalian spirit which the Jenkinses seemed to be inculcating in the neighborhood.
Brother Longgra.s.s was a little startled upon beholding the white-robed corpse, but perceiving what comfort it brought to the afflicted mother, he magnanimously forbore to allude to the matter.
After the remains had been viewed for the last time, the surplice was removed. In the evening Amarilly called for it.
”He did look handsome in it,” commented Mrs. Hudgers with a satisfied, reminiscent smile. ”I wish I might of hed his likeness took. I'm agoin'
to make you take hum this pan of fried cakes Mrs. Holdock fetched in.
They'll help fill up the chillern.”
”I don't want to rob you, Mrs. Hudgers,” said Amarilly, gazing longingly at the doughnuts, which were cla.s.sed as luxuries in the Jenkins's menu.
”I da.s.sent eat 'em, Amarilly. If I et jest one, I'd hev dyspepsy orful, and folks hez brung in enough stuff to kill me now. It does beat all the way they bring vittles to a house of mournin'! I only wish Hallie could hev some of 'em.”
CHAPTER IX
The surplice, carefully laundered after the funeral, was ready for new fields of labor. The tenor, first patron of Amarilly's costuming establishment, was wont to loiter in the studio of an artist he knew and relate his about-town adventures. This artist was interested in the annals of the little scrub-girl and her means of livelihood.