Again there came to her a feeling she was not alone. The whispering rose once more, this time from the shadows on the other side of the casket. She sought to put them out of her mind, to lose herself again in her own thoughts. After all, she thought, they are trying to show their respect for Jean and their willingness to be of service. It is thoughtful of them to come over here and sit up. From the kitchen came the sound of voices and the aroma of coffee. Maybe they’ll leave soon if only to get something to eat.
They did not leave. Though she made every effort to close her ears and mind to the words which floated jerkily to her, Mimi found her resentment rising again. Mrs. Plummer and Mrs. King discussed the probable price of the casket, the furniture. They speculated as to what the widow and daughter would do now, in what sort of financial circumstances the deceased had left them. Mimi heard Carl’s name linked with her own—followed by an appreciative chuckle from Mrs. King in response to some remark made by her companion which Mimi could not hear. It was obvious the women had not seen or heard Mimi reenter the room, for the frankness of their comment indicated their assumption they were alone. On and on they roamed, by innuendo and by unqualified assertion destroying, maligning, tearing to pieces. …
A cold, blind fury seized Mimi. She jumped to her feet. The women gasped as Mimi’s bloodless face framing flashing eyes filled with fury rose at the head of the casket, the light from the tall candles giving it a terrifying, ghostlike appearance.
“You two get out!” Mimi demanded. “You might have had enough respect for my father here to have silenced your filthy, lying tongues! Get out! Get out! Get out!”
Her voice at first was but little more than a sharp whisper. As her anger mastered her it rose until her words carried to the hall beyond.