"I have heard you express distaste to some of the things that make up your trade, Thomas Hepburn, but at least they give you the opportunity of taking last looks at people," began Jelly. "I'd have given I don't know how much out of my pocket to have had a farewell look at Mrs. Rane."
"That doesn't always bring the pleasure you might suppose," was the answer of the undertaker.
"Did you go to her?" asked Jelly.
"No. I sent the two men: Clark and Dobson. They took the coffin at once: the doctor had brought the measure."
"And they screwed her down at once," retorted Jelly, more eagerly than she had intended to speak.
"Ay! It was best. We did it in some other cases that died of the same."
"Did the men notice how she looked--whether there was much change in her?" resumed Jelly, in a low tone. "Some faces are very sweet and placid after death: so much so that one can't help thinking they are happy. Was Mrs. Rane's so?"
"The men didn't see her," said Hepburn.
"Didn't see her!"
"No. The doctor managed that they should not. It was very kind of him. Dobson had had an awful dread all along of catching the fever; and Clark was beginning to fear it a little: Dr. Rane knew this, and said he'd not expose them to more risk than could be helped. The men carried the coffin up to the ante-room, and he said he would manage all the rest."