“Yes, I left there at three and reached New York at five. I intended coming here this evening, but when Miss Trowbridge telephoned me soon after six, I came right up at once.”
“Well, I think I’ll go now, for I may dig up something of importance at the police station, and I’ll be here tomorrow for the inquest at ten or thereabouts.”
As Coroner Berg left, the men from the undertaker’s arrived, and the trying session with them had to be gone through.
“But I can’t make arrangements about the funeral now,” said poor Avice, breaking down again. “Why, I can’t even realize Uncle Rowly is dead, and——”
“Never mind, my dear,” said Mrs. Black, “don’t try to. Go to your room now, and leave the funeral matters to me. I will arrange everything, and Judge Hoyt will assist me with his advice.”
“Indeed you won’t,” said Avice, spiritedly: “I suppose I am still my uncle’s niece. And I prefer to be consulted about the last rites for him.”
“Then stay by all means,” and Mrs. Black’s voice was honey-sweet. “I only meant to save you a harrowing experience.” She turned to the suave young man who had with him a book of pictured caskets, and was soon deeply interested in the choice of shape, style and number of handles that seemed to her most desirable.
Avice looked at her with aversion. It seemed to the girl almost ghoulish to show such absorption in a question of the quality of black cloth, or the lettering on the name-plate.
“But it must be decided,” said Mrs. Black. “Of course, we want the best of everything, and it is the last honor we can pay to dear Mr. Trowbridge. You should be very thankful, Avice, that you have me here to assist and advise you. You are too young and inexperienced to attend to these matters. Isn’t that so, Judge Hoyt?”
“It seems so to me, Mrs. Black. These selections must be made, and surely you are showing good taste and judgment.”