Another pause. Mrs. Cumberland felt weary.
"Is this funeral ever coming?" she exclaimed. "There seems to be some delay."
"It was a late hour to fix it for, ma'am. Old Sir what's-his-name wrote word he couldn't be here before the afternoon; so they put it off to four o'clock for his convenience."
Mrs. Cumberland looked up inquiringly. She did not understand.
"I mean young Bohun's relatives, ma'am. Madam's brother-in-law by her first husband."
"Sir Nash Bohun! Is he coming?"
"Sir Nash; that's the name," remarked Mrs. Gass. "I know when Mr. Richard said it, it put me in mind of grinding the teeth."
"What could have induced them to ask him?" wondered Mrs. Cumberland. "He is no relative."
"It sounds grand to have him, ma'am--and that's all she thinks of," returned Mrs. Gass, with slighting allusion to madam. "Or maybe, as it was an uncommon death, they want to make it an uncommon funeral. I look upon it as no better than a murder."
"It is very strange about that piece of paper," observed Mrs. Cumberland.