"But you didn't eat your horse for dinner, I hope."
"Oh, no! I had dinner at aunt Phelena's. I lent the horse. Joe Brown and his wife came over to see their cousin. Her husband has disappeared, and nobody knows what has become of him."
"Disappeared?"
"Yes. He went out to his office, and never came back."
"How disgusting for a man to act so!" exclaimed Flossy. "Why, the friends can't tell whether to have a funeral, or be chirky. It must be dreadfully aggravating. It keeps them all at home, and yet they don't know what to expect."
"It is usually safe to expect the worst."
"But that isn't pleasant. One doesn't like to be in the dumps without being obliged to be. And it's not only the immediate family, but other folks,—sort of cousins, and the like. I should be awfully cross if I were a cousin. They can't even have the comfort of the services, or of wearing black, no matter how becoming it is to them. For my part, I think it would be a great deal less selfish to leave word whether there's a funeral or not."
"I don't think people who disappear can always help it," he said, laughing. "But I suppose you'll leave a note saying, 'Farewell—farewell forever;' or something like that."
"Yes, I'll say 'Funeral at such a time, and I'll be ready.' How shockingly I talk! So saying, she folded her lips, and sank into silence. Will you drive, please?"
"This cousin of the Browns," Burleigh remarked, "just went off, or was carried off, or something else: at least, he is gone. The Browns were going home in the mail-team at nine o'clock this morning, but Mrs. Brown didn't get ready until about one this afternoon."