"I don't expect he could do that," replied Mrs. Hudgers doubtfully. "His church most likely wouldn't stand fer it. Brother Longgrass is real kind if he ain't my sort. He's agoin' to let the boys run the maylodeun down here the night afore the funyral."
"Who's agoin' to sing?"
"I dunno yit. I left it to the preacher. He said he'd git me a picked choir, whatever that may be."
"My! But you'll hev a fine funeral!" exclaimed Amarilly admiringly.
"I allers did say that when Hallie got merried, or died, things should be done right. Thar's jest one thing I can't hev."
"What's that, Mrs. Hudgers?"
"Why, you see, Amarilly, Hallie's clo'es air sort of shabby-like, and when we git him in that shiny new caskit, they air agoin' to show up orful seedy. But I can't afford ter buy him a new suit jest for this onct."
"Couldn't you rent a suit?" asked Amarilly, her ruling passion for business still dominating.
"No; I jest can't, Amarilly. It's costin' me too much now."
"I know it is," sympathized Amarilly, concentrating her mind on the puzzling solution of Hallie's habiliment.