Reverently they got a basket of ashes from each of those now hallowed spots, and carried them home to consult as to the best manner of forwarding them to England, and also to give them an opportunity to “lie in state,”—­a mark of respect which the colonel deemed obligatory, considering the high rank of the deceased.

They set the baskets on the table in what was formerly the library, drawing-room and workshop—­now the Hall of Audience—­and went up stairs to the lumber room to see if they could find a British flag to use as a part of the outfit proper to the lying in state.  A moment later, Lady Rossmore came in from the street and caught sight of the baskets just as old Jinny crossed her field of vision.  She quite lost her patience and said: 

“Well, what will you do next?  What in the world possessed you to clutter up the parlor table with these baskets of ashes?”

“Ashes?” And she came to look.  She put up her hands in pathetic astonishment.  “Well, I never see de like!”

“Didn’t you do it?”

“Who, me?  Clah to goodness it’s de fust time I’ve sot eyes on ’em, Miss Polly.  Dat’s Dan’l.  Dat ole moke is losin’ his mine.”

But it wasn’t Dan’l, for he was called, and denied it.

“Dey ain’t no way to ’splain dat.  Wen hit’s one er dese-yer common ’currences, a body kin reckon maybe de cat—­”

“Oh!” and a shudder shook Lady Rossmore to her foundations.  “I see it all.  Keep away from them—­they’re his.”

“His, m’ lady?”

“Yes—­your young Marse Sellers from England that’s burnt up.”

She was alone with the ashes—­alone before she could take half a breath.  Then she went after Mulberry Sellers, purposing to make short work with his program, whatever it might be; “for,” said she, “when his sentimentals are up, he’s a numskull, and there’s no knowing what extravagance he’ll contrive, if you let him alone.”  She found him.  He had found the flag and was bringing it.  When she heard that his idea was to have the remains “lie in state, and invite the government and the public,” she broke it up.  She said: 

“Your intentions are all right—­they always are—­you want to do honour to the remains, and surely nobody can find any fault with that, for he was your kin; but you are going the wrong way about it, and you will see it yourself if you stop and think.  You can’t file around a basket of ashes trying to look sorry for it and make a sight that is really solemn, because the solemner it is, the more it isn’t—­anybody can see that.  It would be so with one basket; it would be three times so with three.  Well, it stands to reason that if it wouldn’t be solemn with one mourner, it wouldn’t be with a procession—­and there would be five thousand people here.  I don’t know but it would be pretty near ridiculous; I think it would.  No, Mulberry, they can’t lie in state—­it would be a mistake.  Give that up and think of something else.”