THE TAILOR'S SISTER'S TOMBSTONE 



ray gay and homely, and with a certain sparkling 

 brightness, like the flowers they loved. To see them 

 standing there proudly, smiling at the grey tombstone, 

 smiling at me, under the sun, in the garden so full of 

 life and of growing healthy things, gave me a sensation 

 that Death was present in friendly guise, a constant 

 welcome companion to my new friends, and a pleasant 

 image even to myself. 



" Second-hand," said the tailor's sister, " all except 

 the name, and he put that in for me at a penny the 

 letter : that came to elevenpence, so I gave him a 

 shilling to make an even sum." 



" A guinea, as it stands," said the tailor. 



" You like it, sir ? " asked his sister anxiously. 



" On the contrary," said I, " I admire it enormously." 



" As soon as I saw it," she said, " I fell in love with 

 it. It was standing at the back of the yard among a 

 heap of stones. The sun was shining on it, and I said 

 to myself, ' If that's cheap, it's as good as mine.' The 

 man had cut it out years ago as an advertisement to 

 put in the front of the yard, and it had a bit of paper 

 pasted on it with his terms and what not — Funerals 

 in the best style. Distance no object — and that sort 

 of thing. I asked the price of it and he told me ' One 

 pound.' ' Cheap,' I said, and he told me how 'twas 

 so, since people nowadays like broken urns and pillars 

 or something plainer, and had given up cherubs, and 

 death-heads and suchlike. So I put down the money, 

 and he popped it on a waggon that was coming back 

 this way with a small load of Hay, and Tom put it up 

 for me in the garden. Now I can die happy, sir." 



I asked her if she had no feelings about Death, and 

 if the idea of leaving her garden and her cottage was 

 not strange to her. 



She replied, in the simplest way possible, being a 



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