2. Chapter II.
FUNERAL TRAPPINGS.
The mules were never found.
Reginald's heart-broken mother took the body
home to her unfortunate son's widows. But before
her arrival she indiscreetly sent a boy to Bust the
news gently to the afflicted wives, which he did by
informing them, in a hoarse whisper, that their
“old man had gone in.”
The wives felt very badly indeed.
“He was devoted to me,” sobbed Emily.
“And to me,” said Maria.
“Yes,” said Emily, “he thought considerably of
you, but not so much as he did of me.”
“I say he did!”
“And I say he didn't!”
“He did!”
“He didn't!”
“Don't look at me, with your squint eyes!”
“Don't shake your red head at me!”
“Sisters!” said the black-haired Henrietta, “cease
this unseemly wrangling. I, as his first wife, shall
strew flowers on his grave.”
“No you won't,” said Susan. “I, as his last wife,
shall strew flowers on his grave. It's my business
to strew!”
“You shan't, so there!” said Henrietta.
“You bet I will!” said Susan, with a tear-suffused
cheek.
“Well, as for me,” said the practical Betsy, “I
ain't on the Strew, much, but I shall ride at the
head of the funeral procession!”
“Not if I've been introduced to myself, you
won't,” said the golden-haired Nelly; “that's my
position. You bet your bonnet-strings it is.”
“Children,” said Reginald's mother, “you must
do some crying, you know, on the day of the funeral;
and how many pocket-handkerchers will it take
to go round? Betsy, you and Nelly ought to make
one do between you.”
“I'll tear her eyes out if she perpetuates a sob on
my handkercher!” said Nelly.
“Dear daughters-in-law,” said Reginald's mother,
“how unseemly is this anger. Mules is five hundred
dollars a span, and every identical mule my poor
boy had has been gobbled up by the red man. I
knew when my Reginald staggered into the door-yard
that he was on the Die, but if I'd only thunk
to ask him about them mules ere his gentle spirit
took flight, it would have been four thousand dollars
in
our pockets, and
no mistake! Excuse those
real tears, but you've never felt a parent's feelin's.”
“It's an oversight,” sobbed Maria. “Don't blame
us!”
