o Mrs. Kitts an' the bell they've got the care of all that
crape on their hands, an' the damp gathers in it just awful on rainy
days, an' of course no Christian can sun twenty yards of crape on their
clothesline when the dead person ain't died yet, so they're wild over
that, too. They've made their skirts themselves, an' they wanted to do
their waists, only what with the way sleeves is puffin' out an' slimmin'
up an' fronts is first hangin' over an' then hookin' down, the back it
just does seem out of the question. They've worried a lot over the veils
since they was bought 'cause they wanted to get into 'em last winter so
as to get out of 'em by last spring, an' then even when Mrs. Kitts
rallied from her Christmas dinner, they thought maybe they could still
be out of 'em by the Fourth of July; but now--Heavens! Mrs. Macy says
they don't ask to get out of 'em any more; all they ask is to get _into_
'em, an' goodness knows when that is _ever_ goin' to happen. She says
Mrs. Lupey says what with Judy's divorce an' Mrs. Kitts livin' right
along she's going to get moths into her things for the first time in her
life, she just knows she is. It's a pretty hard case any one can see,
an' of course seein' Mrs. Kitts live like that may get Busby Bell all
out of the notion of marryin' Judy, for of course no man ain't goin' to
like to look forward to Mrs. Lupey's livin' like that too, maybe--or
maybe Judy 'll live herself--you never can tell. Mrs. Macy says Mrs.
Lupey says she never guessed as sorrow could come so near to breakin'
your back as losin' a grandmother is breakin' theirs. She says when
she's really lost it won't be so bad 'cause they can all put on their
crape veils an' go straight to bed an' to sleep, but she says this long
drawn out losin' of her with that bell throwed into the bargain is
somethin' calculated to make a saint out of a Chinaman, an' nothin' more
nor less."

"Why--" asked Mrs. Lathrop.

"I tell you, they _can't_," said Susan; "they want to bad enough, but
they can't do it. Mrs. Kitts is too smart for that. She keeps her eagle
eye on it awake, an' her whole hand on the little string when she's
asleep, an' drums 'em up to know if the clock is really right, or if she
feels anyways disposed to smell of cologne. Some nights she rolls on the
string in her sleep, an' then the bell wakes her along with the rest of
'em, which Mrs. Macy says is a-doin' more aggravatin' to the Lupeys
than any words can do justice to