She moved into the shadows of a house,humiliated to her soul by this exhibition;but Jonah laughed,in spite of himself,at the figure cut by Dad among the ready-made monuments.As he laughed,Dad caught sight of him,and clinging to a marble angel with one arm for support,beckoned wildly with the other.
"Come here--come here,"he cried between his sobs."I'm all alone with the dead,and nobody to shed a tear 'cep'meself.Shame on you,shame on you,"he cried,raising his voice in bitter grief,"to pass the poor fellows in their graves without sheddin'tear!"He stopped and stared with drunken gravity at the name on the nearest tombstone,trying to read the words which danced before his eyes in the clear light.Jonah saw them plainly.
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
SARAH JAMES,Aged Eighty-five.
A fresh burst of grief announced that Dad had deciphered the lettering.
"Sam!"he cried bitterly."Me old fren'Sam!To think of bringing him here without letting me know!The besh fren'I ever had."Here sobs choked his utterance.He stooped and examined the shining marble slab again,lurching from one side to the other with incessant motion.
"An'not a flowersh onsh grave!"he cried."Sam was awf'ly fond flowersh.""Get away 'ome,or the Johns'll pinch yer,"said Jonah.
Dad stopped and stared at him with a glimmering of reason in his fuddled brain.
"I know yoush,"he cried,with a cunning leer."An'I know your fren'there.She isn't yer missis.She never is,y'know.Naughty boy!"he cried,wagging his finger at Jonah;"but I wont split on pal."That reminded him of the deceased Sam,and he turned again to the monument.
"Goo'bye,Sam,"he cried suddenly,under the impression that he had been to a funeral."I've paid me respecks to an ol'fren',an'now we'll both sleep in peace.""Come away and leave him,"whispered Clara,trembling with disgust and mortification.