Cousin Abbott may go, and we can't think o' wearing crape less nor half a year for him." "That _would_ be unlucky," said Mrs.Tulliver, entering thoroughly into the possibility of an inopportune decease.

"There's never so much pleasure i' wearing a bonnet the second year, especially when the crowns are so chancy,--never two summers alike." "Ah, it's the way i' this world," said Mrs.Pullet, returning the bonnet to the wardrobe and locking it up.

She maintained a silence characterized by head-shaking, until they had all issued from the solemn chamber and were in her own room again.

Then, beginning to cry, she said, "Sister, if you should never see that bonnet again till I'm dead and gone, you'll remember I showed it you this day." Mrs.Tulliver felt that she ought to be affected, but she was a woman of sparse tears, stout and healthy; she couldn't cry so much as her sister Pullet did, and had often felt her deficiency at funerals.

Her effort to bring tears into her eyes issued in an odd contraction of her face.