ine too?"

"Yes."

"And wait till Charley and Amy come?"

"Yes, dear."

"Goody!"

She caught up Dinah, and went skipping about the porch.

"Going to have a funeral. Did you know it? Why don't you ask who is
dead? Course somebody is. Couldn't have a funeral without somebody dead!
It isn't me, and it isn't you. Nor anybody in this house. Did you think
it was? No. It is a robin. You can go because you have a black face.
Always wear black to funerals. I will, and Bertie will,--round our hats.
You mustn't laugh. Good folks don't laugh at funerals, and I don't.
Only bad. There's a worm. Want to look? That is the robin's breakfast
going home. He lives down there under a plank. I can't lift it, and you
can't. Bertie can. He don't want no more breakfast. Course not! He is
going to be dead. Bury him when Amy and Charley come. Somewhere. Do you
know where? I don't. Bertie does."

With Dinah in her arms, she met Charley and Amy at the corner when
school was done, with the cheerful tidings.

"Going to have a funeral!"

"No!" said Charley.

"Are too, Charley Waters."

"When?"

"Now."

"Where?" inquired Amy, anxiously.

"There," pointing towards home.

"Not at our house?"

"Yes."

"It cannot be. Nobody is dead."

"Couldn't have a funeral without somebody dead."

"Flora, is anybody dead?"

"He is."

"Who?"

"The robin. Died to-day. Going to have a funeral in the porch."

"Ho, ho!" laughed Charley.

"You have given me such a fright!" said Amy. "I have not strength enough
left to take me home."

Charley offered to carry her on his back, but she declined the offer.
After leaning against a tree for a moment, she was able to go on.

"I don't know what the dear child means, do you?"

"Haven't the least idea," said Charley.

"And what is Bertie so busy about?"

"Can't make that out either."

"What is Bertie doing, pet?"

"Making the box," said Flora.

"What box?"

"Can't bury the robin without making a box!"

"Oh!"

"Course not. You ought to know better."

"That's so. When did Mr. R. shuffle off, &c.?"

"Didn't go nowhere, only to be dead."

"Oh!"

"And when Bertie gets the box done, we must form a line and march. Me
and Dinah will go first, because she is the blackest."

"Good. She shall be chief mourner."

"Me, too."

"You shall be the marshal."

"Well."

She had not the slightest idea what it was to be the marshal but she
liked the sound of it. Bertie was not long in finishi