An undertaker's man took possession of the long black cloaks.

The gloves were generally pocketed.
'That's my second black pair this year,' said Joyce.
'They'll last a time to come.

I don't need to buy gloves while neighbours pop off.' 'Undertakers' gloves seem to me as if they're made for mutton fists,' remarked Welbeck; upon which Kilne nudged Barnes, the butcher, with a sharp 'Aha!' and Barnes observed: 'Oh! I never wear 'em--they does for my boys on Sundays.

I smoke a pipe at home.' The Fallow field farmer held his length of crape aloft and inquired: 'What shall do with this ?' 'Oh, you keep it,' said one or two.
Coxwell rubbed his chin.

'Don't like to rob the widder.' 'What's left goes to the undertaker ?' asked Grossby.
'To be sure,' said Barnes; and Kilne added: 'It's a job': Lawyer Perkins ejaculating confidently, 'Perquisites of office, gentlemen; perquisites of office!' which settled the dispute and appeased every conscience.
A survey of the table ensued.