There was a short silence of awe.

“Well!” ejaculated Susannah:  “I thought, when first I sat down, that the cushions felt extraordinary plum.  You don’t think they’ll fine us?”

“It all comes of our stoppin’ to gaze at that Punch-an’-Judy,” the old fellow went on, after I had shown them how to turn back the arm-seats, and they were settled in something like comfort.  “But I never could refrain from that antic, though I feels condemned too, in a way, an’ poor Thomas laid in earth no longer ago than twelve noon.  But in the midst of life we are in death.”

“I don’t remember a more successful buryin’,” said the woman who held the little girl.

“That was partly luck, as you may say, it bein’ regatta-day an’ the fun o’ the fair not properly begun.  I counted a lot at the cemetery I didn’ know by face, an’ I set ’em down for excursionists, that caught sight of a funeral, an’ followed it to fill up the time.”

“It all added.”

“Oh, aye; Thomas was beautifully interred.”

By this time the heat in the carriage was hardly more overpowering than the smell of crape, broadcloth, and camphor.  The youth who had wedged himself next to me carried a large packet of “fairing,” which he had bought at one of the sweet-stalls.  He began to insert it into his side pocket, and in his struggles drove an elbow sharply into my ribs.  I shifted my position a little.

“Tom’s wife would ha’ felt it a source o’ pride, had she lived.”

But I ceased to listen; for in moving I had happened to glance at the further end of the carriage, and there my attention was arrested by a curious little piece of pantomime.  The little girl—­a dark-eyed, intelligent child, whose pallor was emphasised by the crape which smothered her—­was looking very closely at the old gentleman with the hump—­staring at him hard, in fact.  He, on the other hand, was leaning forward, with both hands on the knob of his malacca, his eyes bent on the floor and his mouth squared to the surliest expression.  He seemed quite unconscious of her scrutiny, and was tapping one foot impatiently on the floor.

After a minute I was surprised to see her lean forward and touch him gently on the knee.

He took no notice beyond shuffling about a little and uttering a slight growl.  The woman who held her put out an arm and drew back the child’s hand reprovingly.  The child paid no heed to this, but continued to stare.  Then in another minute she again bent forward, and tapped the old gentleman’s knee.

This time she fetched a louder growl from him, and an irascible glare.  Not in the least daunted, she took hold of his malacca, and shook it to and fro in her small hand.

“I wish to heavens, madam, you’d keep your child to yourself!”

“For shame, Annie!” whispered the poor woman, cowed by his look.

But again Annie paid no heed.  Instead, she pushed the malacca towards the old gentleman, saying—­