er, in account with
Etienne Mahye, Master of Burials.

Item: Livres. Sols. Farth. Paid to Gentlemen of Vingtaine, who carried
him to his grave.................. 4 4 0 Ditto to me, Etienne Mahye, for
proper gloves of silk and cotton................. 1 0 0 Ditto to me, E.
M., for laying of him out and all that appertains............... 0 7 0
Ditto to me, E. M., for coffin............ 4 0 0 Ditto to me, E. M., for
divers............ 0 4 0

The Master of Burials interrupted. "Bat'dlagoule, you've forgot blacking
for coffin!"

The apprentice made the correction without deigning reply, and then went
on

Livres. Sols. Farth.

Ditto to me, E. M., for black for blacking
coffin.................................... 0 3 0 Ditto to me, E. M.,
paid out for supper after obs'quies........................... 3 2 0
Ditto to me, E. M., paid out for wine (3 pots and 1 pt. at a shilling)
for ditto..................................... 2 5 6 Ditto to me, E. M.,
paid out for oil and candle.................................... 0 7
0 Ditto to me, E. M., given to the poor, as fitting station of
deceased............... 4 0 0

The apprentice stopped. "That's all," he said.

There was a furious leer on the face of the Master of Burials. So, after
all his care, apprentices would never learn to make mistakes on his
side. "O my grief, always on the side of the corpse, that can thank
nobody for naught!" was his snarling comment.

"What about those turnips from Denise Gareau, numskull?" he grunted, in
a voice between a sneer and a snort.

The apprentice was unmoved. He sniffed, rubbed his nose with a
forefinger, laboriously wrote for a moment, and then added:

Ditto to Madame Denise Gareau for turnips for supper after obs'quies
...................... 10 sols

"Saperlote, leave out the Madame, calf-lugs--, you!"

The apprentice did not move a finger. Obstinacy sat enthroned on him.
In a rage, the Master made a snatch at a metal flower-wreath to throw at
him. "Shan't! She's my aunt. I knows my duties to my aunt--me," said the
apprentice stolidly.

The Master burst out in a laugh of scorn. "Gaderabotin, here's family
pride for you! I'll go stick dandelines in my old sow's ear--respe d'la
compagnie."

The apprentice was still calm. "If you want to flourish yourself, don't
mind me," said he, and picking up the next account, he began reading:

Mademoiselle Landresse, in the matter of the Burial of
the Sieur