Amarilly of Clothes-line Alley

"Oh, no!" protested Amarilly, shocked at such a supposition. "Besides,

you kin tell them all that Hallie's laid out in a surplus. They all seen

them to the concert."

The funeral passed off with great eclat. The picked choir had resonant

voices, and Brother Longgrass preached one of his longest sermons,

considerately omitting reference to any of the characteristics of the

deceased. Mrs. Hudgers was suitably attired in donated and dusty black.

The extremely unconventional garb of Hallie caused some little comment,

but it was commonly supposed to be a part of the Episcopalian spirit

which the Jenkinses seemed to be inculcating in the neighborhood.

Brother Longgrass was a little startled upon beholding the white-robed

corpse, but perceiving what comfort it brought to the afflicted mother,

he magnanimously forbore to allude to the matter.

After the remains had been viewed for the last time, the surplice was

removed. In the evening Amarilly called for it.

"He did look handsome in it," commented Mrs. Hudgers with a satisfied,

reminiscent smile. "I wish I might of hed his likeness took. I'm agoin'

to make you take hum this pan of fried cakes Mrs. Holdock fetched in.

They'll help fill up the chillern."

"I don't want to rob you, Mrs. Hudgers," said Amarilly, gazing longingly

at the doughnuts, which were classed as luxuries in the Jenkins's menu.

"I dassent eat 'em, Amarilly. If I et jest one, I'd hev dyspepsy orful,

and folks hez brung in enough stuff to kill me now. It does beat all the

way they bring vittles to a house of mournin'! I only wish Hallie could

hev some of 'em."