“Am I? There is more than fun in that sermon. Look here; this might do.” And, as he came near and stood with huge square hands on the table, she spread out the sheet of paper.
“Can’t you read any of it, Joe?”
“Not no word of it. I might know the letters—the big ones.”
He looked at it as a scholar might at some papyrus in an unknown language. “You might read it,” he said.
Upon this, with a finger on each word, as she went on, and with his eyes following it with interest, she read slowly:
“HERE LIE THE BODIES
OF
SUSAN FAIRLAMB,
PETER FAIRLAMB, AND
ISAIAH FAIRLAMB,