They had been sacredly preserved for years
and years, and the entire collection--numbering nineteen in all--had
been framed, and adorned the walls of the deceased lady's best room.
They were not of solid silver, it is true, but even so it was a
matter of distinction to have belonged to a family that could afford
to have nineteen coffin-plates of any sort.
Aunt Hitty planned certain dramatic details as she walked down the
road to Croft's. It came to her in a burst of inspiration that she
would have two ministers: one for the long prayer, and one for the
short prayer and the remarks. She hoped that Elder Weeks would be
adequate in the latter direction. She knew she couldn't for the life
of her think of anything interesting to say about Mrs. Butterfield,
save that she possessed nineteen coffin-plates, and brought her hens
to Edgewood every summer for their health; but she had heard Elder
Weeks make a moving discourse out of less than that. To be sure, he
needed priming, but she would be equal to the occasion. There was
Ivory Brown's funeral: how would that have gone on if it hadn't been
for her? Wasn't the elder ten minutes late, and what would his
remarks have amounted to without her suggestions? You might almost
say she was the author of the discourse, for she gave the elder all
the appropriate ideas. As she had helped him out of the waggon she
had said: "Are you prepared? I thought not; but there's no time to
lose. Remember there are aged parents; two brothers living--one
railroading in Spokane Falls, the other clerking in Washington, D.
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