I tell ye, I smell the tea." Poor Amelia Stokes, who was a pretty, gentle-faced spinster, could not hush her mother, whisper as pleadingly as she might into the sharp old ear in the bonnet-frills.

The old woman was full of the desire for tea, and could scarcely be restrained from following up its fragrant scent at once.
The two Lawson sisters sat side by side, their sharp faces under their black bonnets full of veiled alertness.

Nothing escaped them; they even suspected the truth about Ann's bonnet and gloves.

Ann still sat with her gloved hands crossed in her lap and her black veil over her strained little face.

She did not move a muscle; but in the midst of all her restrained grief the sight of the large man, the woman, and the three girls in the blue thibets, the black silk mantillas, and the blue bonnets filled her with a practical dismay.
They were the relatives from Westbrook, who had not been bidden to the funeral.