"'Tis a coffin stool."
Fancy sat down upon the chair he placed for her. Mrs. Mucklow said mournfully:
"I wonders, Susan, why you keep they stools in your kitchen."
"And so do I," added Alfred.
Mrs. Yellam answered simply:
"They mind me, Alferd, that in the midst o' life we be wise to think, now and again, o' death. Will you remove your hat, Miss Broomfield?"
Fancy did so, slipping off her gloves first. Mrs. Yellam frightened her a little. Not quite at ease, she minded her table manners, and behaved with a gentility quietly noted and silently commended by the elder women. On such occasions, when a stranger happened to be present, Mrs. Yellam loved to lead the talk, choosing a subject likely to improve the minds of her listeners. The captious may regard this as an unpleasing trait. Mrs. Yellam believed that it was more blessed to give than to receive instruction. But, listening to Parson or Squire, she imbibed such wisdom as fell from their august lips with an attention and an intelligence which she exacted from others when she held the floor. Her first duty, as hostess, was to see that her guest made a good tea, the sort of tea, obviously, that she did not get at home. Fancy, however, trifled with her food, being overtired, and positively refused to eat cake. Mrs. Yellam said majestically:
"My son tells me that you be a reader, Miss Broomfield."
"I like books," replied Fancy. "I have not read many, Mrs. Yellam."
"I don't hold wi' reading," observed Mrs. Mucklow; "leastways, not for pore folks as has no time to waste."