“They’ve lain there a month and more ready for you, madam, and most thankful I shall be to see you with a couple o’ pounds’ worth less of crape,” said Tantripp, stooping to light the fire. “There’s a reason in mourning, as I’ve always said; and three folds at the bottom of your skirt and a plain quilling in your bonnet⁠—and if ever anybody looked like an angel, it’s you in a net quilling⁠—is what’s consistent for a second year. At least, that’s my thinking,” ended Tantripp, looking anxiously at the fire; “and if anybody was to marry me flattering himself I should wear those hijeous weepers two years for him, he’d be deceived by his own vanity, that’s all.”

“The fire will do, my good Tan,” said Dorothea, speaking as she used to do in the old Lausanne days, only with a very low voice; “get me the coffee.”