eer up Frank in the trenches?"

Mrs. Watt took the suggestion in quite good part, but gave it a decided
negative.

"'E would wish respect showed to 'is Aunt Maria, as died Wednesday was a
fortnight. You might tell 'im that, if you please, Mum."

I started off, as bidden, with this mournful communication, under the
eye, at first severely critical, then frankly admiring, of Bill's
grandmother.

"Lor," she exclaimed, "you be one to write the words quick!"

"What shall we say now?" I asked brightly.

"Wednesday was a fortnight as she died, sister Maria did, that's Frank's
aunt, and was buried a Saturday--what's too soon, as you'd say, but no
disrespect meant, the undertaker arranging first for the Monday--only
'aving a bigger job, with 'orses and plumes, give'im for the Monday, and
so putting my pore sister forward to the Saturday. 'Ave you got that
down, Mum?"

"Oh," I said, scribbling briskly, "am I to write all that?" It occupied,
even with much compression, space far into the second side of the
restricted paper.

"An' my only relative surviving," she resumed, "being brother George, as
is eighty-two, and crotchety at that, lives out 'Oxton way, so I wrote
to him about the funeral for a Monday, and when the undertaker puts it
forward to the Saturday I didn't have no one to send all that way, so
brother George--'e's eighty-two, and crotchety at that--'e didn't get no
notice for the funeral on Saturday at all, so o' course 'e didn't come.
You'll make all that clear to Frank, won't you, Mum?"

I scribbled hard again, and said I was doing my best.

"So brother George being crotchety, as I said, Mum, 'e sent me word as
'e wouldn't never speak to me again in this world, and 'e didn't know as
ever 'e would in the world to come--I'd like you to put that all in,
please, Mum, so's to let Frank know 'ow it all is. Now, do you suppose,
Mum, if I was to die, as brother George'd come to my funeral?"

I hardly knew what answer to make after the "cut everlasting" with which
George had threatened his sister, but I had an idea that I was beginning
to understand Mrs. Watt's tastes. "Well," I said weakly, "I don't
know--funerals are very pleasant things."

It was the right note and Mrs. Watt took it up keenly. "That's what I
always says, Mum," she said eagerly. "I'd sooner go to a good funeral
than I would a wedding any day of the week. You've got that down about
brother George? Yes, and please say as it was beautiful polished