Aunt Hitty always
said of this catastrophe, "If I'd 'a' be'n Mis' Potter, I'd 'a' be'n
so mortified I believe I'd 'a' said, 'I wa'n't plannin' to be buried,
but now I'm in here I declare I'll stop.'
Old Mrs. Butterfield's funeral was not only voted an entire success
by the villagers, but the seal of professional approval was set upon
it by an undertaker from Saco, who declared that Mrs. Tarbox could
make a handsome living in the funeral line anywhere. Providence, who
always assists those who assist themselves, decreed that the niece
Lyddy Ann should not arrive until the aunt was safely buried; so,
there being none to resist her right or grudge her the privilege,
Aunt Hitty, for the first time in her life, rode in the next buggy to
the hearse. Si, in his best suit, a broad weed and weepers, drove
Cyse Higgins' black colt, and Aunt Hitty was dressed in deep
mourning, with the Widow Buzzell's crape veil over her face, and in
her hand a palm-leaf fan tied with a black ribbon. Her comment to
Si, as she went to her virtuous couch that night, was: "It was an
awful dry funeral, but that was the only flaw in it. It would 'a'
be'n perfect if there'd be'n anybody to shed tears. I come pretty
nigh it myself, though I ain't no relation, when Elder Weeks said,
'You'll go round the house, my sisters, and Mis' Butterfield won't be
there; you'll go int' the orchard, and Mis' Butterfield won't be
there; you'll go int' the barn, and Mis' Butterfield won't be there;
you'll go int' the shed, and Mis' Butterfield wont be there; you'll
go int' the hencoop, and Mis' Butterfield won't be there!' That
would 'a' draw'd tears from a stone, 'most, 'specially sence Mis'
Butterfield set such store by her hens.
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