I went with it.

I overheard the superintendent tell the master of the work-house that I was a rich man--an invalid--and that I passed a great deal of my time at Brighton.

In a lowered voice he added that I was very eccentric, and that happening to be on the Chain Pier that morning, I had insisted upon paying the expenses of the little funeral.
"A kind, Christian gentlemen," the master said.

"I am glad to hear it." I shall never forget the pitiful sight of that tiny white form laid on the table alone--quite alone--I could not forget it.

The matron had found a little white dress to wrap it in, and with kindly thought had laid some white chrysanthemums on the little, innocent breast.