"How do you do this morning, ma'am?" said Moll Wicks. "I thought I heerd that you had company just now?"
"Only Mr. Banks, the undertaker, Mrs. Wicks."
"Oh! Mr. Banks, was it?" ejaculated the Buffer's wife, who now began to comprehend a part of the Resurrection Man's plan: "and a highly respectable individual he is too."
"Do you know any thing of him, Mrs. Wicks?"
"Certainly I do, ma'am. He buried my grandfather and grandmother, my great uncle and my lame aunt, and never took no more than expenses out of pocket," answered Moll—although be it well remembered, she had never seen nor heard of Mr. Banks before the preceding evening.
"Ah! well—I thought I couldn't be wrong," observed the widow, extremely satisfied with this information.
"And so I suppose, ma'am, you've made the arrangements with him for the funeral?"
"Just so," responded Mrs. Smith; "and in the course of the day I expect a wery pious minister of Mr. Banks's acquaintance."
Scarcely were these words uttered, when a modest double knock at the front door was heard—a summons which Mrs. Wicks volunteered to answer.
The moment she opened the door, an ejaculation of surprise was about to issue from her tongue; but the individual whom she saw upon the threshold put his finger to his lips to impose silence.