"This was his new when he died. After he reached three hundred. And it isn't worn anywhere. You can get her big sleeves out of the hips, I think."
"There's a good deal to a coat beside the sleeves," said Mrs. Ray; "that coat of yours has most drove me mad. I never thought of your bringing me another. Well, unroll it and let me look at it."
Mrs. Wiley began to unfasten the package.
"Any moth-holes in this one?" Mrs. Ray asked, with professional interest.
"None to speak of. The only real hole is where he sat down on a engine spark at the station, the day of his last shock."
"It isn't the suit he had on when the oil-tank exploded, then?"
"No," said Mrs. Wiley; "that was the last but one. The oil-tank was the middle one of his three shocks."
She unfolded the garments and spread them out. Mrs. Ray watched her, and continued her work at the same time.
"How's Lottie Ann?" she asked, presently.
"Oh, she's poorly," said Mrs. Wiley. "We're getting awful worried over Lottie Ann. I thought maybe you could get her fronts out of his fronts; you see, she's slimmer than I am."