Eleanor H. Porter

“ But they waited—waited, Thaddeus, jest as everybody does till their folks is dead.”
“But, Harriet,” demurred the old man, “surely you 'd 'a' had them boys come ter their own mother's fun'ral!”
“Come! I 'd 'a' had 'em come before, while Ella Perkins could 'a' feasted her eyes on 'em. Thaddeus,”—Mrs. Clayton rose to her feet and stretched out two gaunt hands longingly,—“Thaddeus, I get so hungry sometimes fer Jehiel and Hannah Jane, seems as though I jest could n't stand it!” ”

“ We all send love, and hope you are getting along all right. Was glad to hear father was gaining so fast.
“Your loving daughter,
“Hannah Jane.”
The letter dropped from Mrs. Clayton's fingers and lay unheeded on the floor. The woman covered her face with her hands and rocked her body back and forth.
“There, there, dearie,” soothed the old man, huskily; “mebbe Jehiel's will be diff'rent. I should n't wonder, now, if Jehiel would come. There, there! don't take on so, Harriet! don't! I jest know Jehiel 'll come.”
A week later Mrs. Clayton found another letter in the rural delivery box. ”

“ A fun'ral is the only thing that will fetch Jehiel and—”
“Harriet, are ye crazy? Have ye gone clean mad?”
She looked at him appealingly.
“Now, Thaddeus, don't try ter hender me, please. You see it's the only way. A fun'ral is the—”
“A 'fun'ral'—it 's murder!” he shuddered.
“Oh, not ter make believe; as I shall,” she protested eagerly. “It 's—”
“Make believe!”
“Why, yes, of course. You 'll have ter be the one ter do it, 'cause I 'm goin' ter be the dead one, an'—”
“Harriet!”
“There, there, please, Thaddeus! I 've jest got ter see Jehiel and Hannah Jane 'fore I die!” ”