“Because she showed by her manner that she considered herself above us. No one suited her highness except Mrs. Farnsworth and Anna and Mrs. Courtney; and it is plain to be seen that their elegant homes were the attraction. I wonder that she was so anxious to be friends with them when her home was so poor.”
“But all is comfortable and pretty,” replied Diana glancing about her, “and she kept it in beautiful order.”
“Well, what she did and what she did not do is no concern of ours. What we have to do is to bow these shutters and sit down and wait for someone to go for the undertaker.”
Diana went outside to watch, and while she was gone Miss Flint stood in the doorway between the rooms and took a look over the objects of beauty and utility contained therein, and over her grim lips passed a satisfied smile.
“Yes,” she said to herself, “it is the very plan; and trust Jerusha Flint to carry out any scheme she determines upon. Yes, it shall be done!”
Diana in the meantime had unhooked the shutters, bowed them, and returned with the intelligence that Perry had been sent over by Mrs. Merryman to offer his services, and had gone to Dorton to see the undertaker, and, that care removed, they could think of other things.
“What time will you set for the funeral?” asked Diana.
“That will depend upon Mr. Courtney. If he can preach the sermon to-morrow afternoon that will be the time to appoint. I will go over to ‘Friedenheim’ after the undertaker has been here and ask him.”
“But isn’t that very soon? She died only—”
“You were asleep and know nothing about it,” interrupted Jerusha sarcastically. “What would be the use of waiting for her sister who has not set a time for coming? And there is no one in the neighborhood who cares when she is buried.”