"
Mandy came in again, bringing a large pitcher of cider and some glasses,
which she placed upon the table.
While the three men were discussing their country evening lunch in
silence, an animated conversation was taking place in the kitchen, the
participants being Mandy, Mrs. Bridget Crowley, and Hiram, who always
dropped in during the evening to get his glass of cider, a luxury that
was not dispensed at Deacon Mason's.
"Well," said Mandy, "I think it's wasteful extravagance for you Irish
folks to spend so much money on carriages when one of your friends
happens to die. As you just said, when you lived in Boston you own up
you spent fourteen dollars in one month going to funerals, and you paid
a dollar a seat each time."
"I did that," said Mrs. Crowley, "and I earned every bit of it doing
washing, for Pat, bless his sowl, was out of work at the time."
"Just think of that!" said Mandy, turning to Hiram.
"Well, it can't be helped," said Mrs. Crowley, obstinately. "Shure and
if I don't go to folks' funerals they won't come to mine."
This was too much for Mandy and Hiram, and they began laughing, which so
incensed Mrs.
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