The undertaker's shop was half a mile away. I reached it in less than four minutes, and entered with the air of a busy bourgeois.
"How much that box?" I asked of the proprietor, pointing to an imitation oak coffin that was half hidden behind several more showy constructions.
"Four pounds," said he.
"Could you deliver it at once?"
"No, sir, my carts are all out."
"You have attendants?"
He scratched his head, "How fur?" he questioned.
"Only a few hundred yards down the street! I'm willing to pay an extra five shillings for promptitude." He stepped to an open glass door and shouted—"Jim! Frank!"
Two young men, evidently apprentices, answered his call. I put down four sovereigns and five shillings on the counter.
The undertaker picked up the money, and pointed to my purchase. "Pick out the plain oak and take it to this gentleman's house!" he commanded. "He'll show you the way! Do you want a receipt, sir?"