Jonathan had, as in the more
graceful tribute of the flowers, honoured his brother nobly after his
manner, which was a commercial one. It was a very expensive "burying."
Alathea did tell me what "the gin and whiskey for the mourners alone
come to," though I have forgotten. But we lost sight of the ignoble
features of the occasion when the sublime office for the Burial of the
Dead began. When it was ended I understood one of Betty's brusque
remarks, which had puzzled me when it came out at breakfast-time.
"You'll 'ave to take what ye can get for your dinners, gentlemen," she
had said; "for the singers is to meet at three, and I can't pretend to
do more nor I can."
The women mourners at the funeral (there were a few) all wore large
black silk hoods, which completely disguised them; but at the end of
the service one of them pushed hers back, and I recognized the golden
hair of Alathea, as she joined a group rather formally collected on
one side of the grave. She looked round as if to see that all were
ready, and then in such a soprano voice as one seldom hears, she
"started" the funeral hymn. It was the Old Psalm--
"O GOD, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come;
Our shelter from life's stormy blast,
And our eternal home.
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