"No, they ain't," he declared obstinately.
"My mother says we mustn't contradict," put in Ezekiel, with a reproving glance at him across Rachel's lap.
Peletiah unfolded his hands in extreme distress, but he couldn't say that men were bugs, so he sat still.
"Anyway, they are in the city, where I lived," said Rachel, "so never mind. Well, this funeral was just too splendid for anythin'. In the first place there was——"
"Oh, it's coming," cried Ezekiel, pricking up his ears. "Miss Bedlow's funeral's coming."
Rachel gave a jump that carried her off from the door-stone and quite a piece down the box-bordered path. She was hanging over the gate when the boys came up.
"Where?" she said. "I don't see any."
A small, black, high-topped wagon went by, the old horse at a jog trot, and after it came a two-seated rockaway, and after that a carryall, and around the curve in the road appeared more vehicles of the same patterns, tapering off to a line of chaises and gigs.
"Why, that's the funeral," said Peletiah, in solemn enjoyment, and pointing a finger at it; "it's going by now."
"What!" exclaimed Rachel, horribly disappointed. Then she flew away from the gate and turned her back on it all. "I wish I was back in the city!" she said.