This was a hit at George, who was notoriously hard up.
Bosinney muttered abstractedly "Hear, hear!" and, George yawning, the conversation dropped.
Upon arriving, the coffin was borne into the chapel, and, two by two, the mourners filed in behind it.

This guard of men, all attached to the dead by the bond of kinship, was an impressive and singular sight in the great city of London, with its overwhelming diversity of life, its innumerable vocations, pleasures, duties, its terrible hardness, its terrible call to individualism.
The family had gathered to triumph over all this, to give a show of tenacious unity, to illustrate gloriously that law of property underlying the growth of their tree, by which it had thriven and spread, trunk and branches, the sap flowing through all, the full growth reached at the appointed time.

The spirit of the old woman lying in her last sleep had called them to this demonstration.

It was her final appeal to that unity which had been their strength--it was her final triumph that she had died while the tree was yet whole.
She was spared the watching of the branches jut out beyond the point of balance.

She could not look into the hearts of her followers.