tarted at this authoritative announcement.

"And I suppose they'll be married as soon as they decently can. I'm glad
for Janie Iver's sake--not that I like him, the little I've seen of
him."

"We never see him," said Mrs Trumbler.

"Not at church, anyhow," added Miss S. incisively. "Perhaps he'll
remember what's due to his position now."

"Are you sure they're engaged?" asked Mina.

Miss S. looked at her with a smile. "Certain, my dear."

"How?" asked Mina. Mrs Trumbler stared at her in surprised rebuke.

"When I make a mistake, it will be time to ask questions," observed Miss
S. with dignity. "For the present you may take what I say. I can wait to
be proved right, Madame Zabriska."

"I've no doubt you're right; only I thought Janie would have told me,"
said Mina; she had no wish to quarrel with Miss S.

"Janie Iver's very secretive, my dear. She always was. I used to talk to
Mrs Iver about it when she was a little girl. And in your case----" Miss
S.'s smile could only refer to the circumstance that Mina was Major
Duplay's niece; the Major's manoeuvres had not escaped Miss S.'s eye. "Of
course the funeral will be very quiet," Miss S. continued. "That avoids
so many difficulties. The people who would come and the people who
wouldn't--and all that, you know."

"There are always so many questions about funerals," sighed Mrs
Trumbler.

"I hate funerals," said Mina. "I'm going to be cremated."

"That may be very well abroad, my dear," said Miss S. tolerantly, "but
you couldn't here. The question is, will Janie Iver go--and if she does,
where will she walk?"

"Oh, I should hardly think she'd go, if it's not announced, you know,"
said Mrs Trumbler.

"It's sometimes done, and I'm told she would walk just behind the
family."

Mina left the two ladies debating this point of etiquette, Miss S.
showing some deference to Mrs Trumbler's experience in this particular
department, but professing to be fortified in her own view by the
opinion of an undertaker with a wide connection. She reflected, as she
got into her pony carriage, that it is impossible even to die without
affording a good deal of pleasure to other people--surely a fortunate
feature of the world!

On her way home she stopped to leave cards at Blent, and was not
surprised when Harry Tristram came out of his study, having seen her
through the window, and greeted her.

"Send your trap home and walk up the hill with me," he suggested, and
she fell in w