Part 10 (1/2)

Begins with a funeral and ends with a feast.

Sorrow is drowned for this time at least.

It fell out that there were _two_ doll funerals the next day.

Beth lost Ariminta, her composition doll, and she went down into the garden early to find her. She looked in Bose's kennel, but it wasn't there; then she saw a robin in the path digging worms, and he looked so wise that she followed him to the early harvest apple-tree, and sure enough! there was Ariminta on a lower branch where she had put her the night before. She was very wet, for it had rained, and her wig was quite soaked off. So, filled with remorse, Beth went after the glue-pot.

”I never knew such a mean mother as I am,” she said, ”I haven't any thinkery at all, worth mentioning. If your grandmother, my dear, should leave me out, till my hair soaked off--say, sister,” she broke off suddenly to ask--”what keeps our hair on?”

Ethelwyn never at a loss for an answer, said promptly, ”Dust, child”

”I haven't any,” said Beth, feeling her short brown curls cautiously for fear they would come off.

”It's small in small persons, and big in big persons,” said Ethelwyn, with a patient air of having given much thought to the subject.

”Ho!” said Beth. ”Well if Ariminta's going to be dry for Billy Boy's funeral, I'll have to dry her in the oven.”

But alas! for Beth's ”thinkery not worth mentioning!” In her haste to get back to prepare herself and family for the funeral, she forgot to tell Aunt Mandy, who was going to make cake, and so started a fire in the stove. When she opened the oven door to put in the cake, she took out Ariminta's remains, and that is why there were two subjects for a funeral instead of one.

Beth was exceedingly sorry, and wept a few real tears over Ariminta.

”I'm a double widow, and a orphing to-day,” she said, ”and I don't reserve a single child to my name!”

Nan and Bobby came to the funeral, and Bobby chose to be undertaker, while Nan insisted on preaching the sermon.

”You preached yesterday,” she said to Ethelwyn, who also wished to.

”And you did the day before--”

”I think I ought to,” said Beth, ”because it's my fam'ly.”

”That's why you shouldn't, child,” said Nan. ”Would my father enjoy preaching my funeral sermon, do you think?” she asked triumphantly. And while they were doubtfully considering this, she began the service.

Beth attired in Aunt Mandy's large black shawl was very warm and mournful.

The family, especially Billy Boy's widow, were wrapped in black calico swaddling garments, and looked more stiff than ever, but still smiling.

The remains were in cigar boxes, all but Billy's wig and eyes which Beth had thoughtfully saved for another doll.

”I am sorry I have to preach this sad sermon,” said Nan.

”Might have let me, then,” said a voice from the congregation.

”The mourners will please keep quiet,” said the preacher sternly, ”and if the widow and orphans wouldn't grin so, I'd be glad. You'd better be thinking about how you'd feel to be buried, and you are likely to be in this family,” she continued with an offensive accent on _this_.

”Let's hurry up, I'm hot,” said the chief mourner.

So they went down and buried the boxes, singing ”Billy Boy” as a requiem. Bose watched their departure with interest, and dug up both boxes without delay.

Bobby and Nan were invited to stay to lunch, and they accepted with cheerful alacrity.