A coffin stood upon two backless chairs.

These neighbors had just finished disposing the body of a woman in it--a woman with a careworn, gentle face that had more the look of sleep about it than of death.

An old lady motioned, toward the door and said to Hawkins in a whisper: "His mother, po' thing.

Died of the fever, last night.

Tha warn't no sich thing as saving of her.