The mortal body of the oldest retainer of the House of Enderby at length found a peaceful resting place in Enderby churchyard.
No peeress of the realm ever had a larger funeral than this pauper, at least so far as the number of followers went.
It was not until night on the day after the funeral that Wynnette slipped away from the family circle and went to the housekeeper’s room to hear the promised story.
“I will hear both sides,” she said to herself, “though I do believe Old Zillah’s version to be the true one.”
She found the good woman seated at a small worktable and engaged in knitting.
“Well, Mrs. Kelsy, how are you to-night?” inquired Wynnette, as she took the offered seat beside the dame.
“Thanky’, miss, I’m none the better for the worriment of this week,” replied the housekeeper.
“You mean the funeral?”
“The whole on’t, miss! The greatest crowd as ever was every day this week, not even honoring the Sabbath itself, but coming more on that day than any other! And the talk, and the gossip, and the raking up of old scandals, until I was soul sick of it all. And all because a wise woman, over a hundred years old, was found dead in her bed. Warraloo! How else and where else should she ha’ been found dead, I’d like to know!”
“But you have had a night and day of rest, and I hope you feel recovered.”