“Humph! Must be you’re expectin’ company, Ella.”
It was almost two o’clock when loud voices and the crunch of heavy teams told that the road-breakers had come. All morning the Nortons had been hoping against hope that the fateful hour would pass, and the road be still left in unbroken whiteness. Someone, however, had known his duty too well--and had done it.
“I set ter work first thing on this road,” said the man triumphantly to Ella as he stood, shovel in hand, at the door. “The parson’s right behind, an’ there’s a lot more behind him. Gorry! I was afraid I wouldn’t git here in time, but the fun’ral wan’t till two, was it?”
Ella’s dry lips refused to move. She shook her head.
“There’s a mistake,” she said faintly. “There ain’t no fun’ral. Aunt Abby’s better.”
The man stared, then he whistled softly.
“Gorry!” he muttered, as he turned away.
If Jim and Ella had supposed that they could keep their aunt from attending her own “funeral”--as Herrick persisted in calling it--they soon found their mistake. Mrs. Darling heard the bells of the first arrival.
“I guess mebbe I’ll git up an’ set up a spell,” she announced calmly to Ella. “I’ll have my wrapper an’ my slippers, an’ I’ll set in the big chair out in the settin’-room. That’s Parson Gerry’s voice, an’ I want ter see him.”
“But, Aunt Abby--” began Ella, feverishly.