Poor woman, she says he talked so
plain she sees 'em both herself, iv'ry time she looks at the poor
body where it's laid out. She says--"
"Don't tell me!" cried the impressionable Della. "Don't tell me,
Mrs. Cullen! I can most see 'em meself, right here in me own
kitchen! Poor Tom! To think whin I bought me new hat, only last
week, the first time I'd be wearin' it'd be to his funeral.
To-morrow afternoon, it is?"
"At two o'clock," said Mrs. Cullen. "Ye'll be comin' to th' house
to-night, o' course, Della?"
"I will," said Della. "After what I've been hearin' from ye, I'm
'most afraid to come, but I'll do it. Poor Tom! I remember the
day him an' Flora was married--"
But the eavesdropper heard no more; he was on his way up the back
stairs. Life and light--and purpose had come to his face once
more.
Margaret was out for the afternoon. Unostentatiously, he went to
her room, and for the next few minutes occupied himself busily
therein. He was so quiet that his mother, sewing in her own room,
would not have heard him except for the obstinacy of one of the
drawers in Margaret's bureau.
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