Vandover could hear him moving about, sweeping up, rearranging the furniture, making up the bed again.

In front of him, between the horse-block and the front door, one or two smilax leaves were still fallen, and a tuberose, already yellow.

Behind him in the street he had already noticed the marks of the wheels of the hearse where it had backed up to the curb.
The crepe was still on the bell handle.

Vandover did not know whether it had been forgotten, or whether it was proper to leave it there longer.
At any rate he took it off and carried it into the house with him.
His father's hat, a stiff brown derby hat, flat on the top, hung on the hatrack.

This had always been a sign to Vandover that his father was at home.