She
climbed in a helpless way into the gig, and sat waiting for her husband.
"I'm that dry 'at I could drink cauld watter!" he said, as he took his
place beside her.
They drove from the place of tombs, but they carried death with them, and
left the sunlight behind them.
Neither spoke a word all the way. Not until she was dismounting at their
own door, did the mother venture her sole remark, "Eh, sirs!" It meant a
world of unexpressed and inexpressible misery. She went straight up to the
little garret where she kept her Sunday bonnet, and where she said her
prayers when in especial misery. Thence she descended after a while to her
bedroom, there washed her face, and sadly prepared for a hungerless
encounter with the dinner Isy had been getting ready for them--hoping to
hear something about the sermon, perhaps even some little word about the
minister himself. But Isy too must share in the disappointment of that
vainly shining Sunday morning! Not a word passed between her master and
mistress.
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