"How do you do, James?" said Mrs. Tree. "I am quite in my senses, thank you, and I mean to live to a hundred."
"My dear old friend," cried James Stedman, taking the tiny withered hands in his and kissing them, "I wish you might live for ever; but I can never thank you enough for having been dead for half an hour. It has made me the happiest man in the world. I am going to tell Vesta this moment. It is never too late to be happy, is it, Mrs. Tree? Mayn't I say 'Aunt Tree' now?"
"It's all right, is it?" said Mrs. Tree. "I am glad to hear it. Vesta has not much sense, James, but then, I never thought you had too much, and she is as good as gold. I wish you both joy, and I shall come to the wedding. Now, Direxia Hawkes, what are you crying about, I should like to know? Doctor Stedman and Miss Vesta are going to be married, and high time, too. Is that anything to cry about?"
"She is the beat of all!" cried Direxia Hawkes, through her tears, which she was wiping recklessly with a valuable lace tidy.
"Fust she was dead and then she warn't, and then she was crazy and now she ain't, and I can't stand no more. I'm clean tuckered out!"
"Cat's foot!" said Mrs. Tree.