They made haste to crowd into
a public-house, where they sat and drank, and forced Stephen to drink
too, in order to 'drown his grief.' It was still a painful dream to him;
and more and more, as the long hours passed on, he wondered how he came
there, and what all the people about him were doing. It was quite dark
before they started homewards, and the poor old grandfather was no longer
able to sit up in his chair, but lay helplessly at the bottom of the
cart. Even Martha was fast asleep, and leaned her head upon Stephen's
shoulder, without any regard for her new black bonnet. The cart was now
crowded with as many of the people as could get into it, who sang and
shouted along the quiet Sunday road; and, as they insisted upon stopping
at every public-house they came to, it was very late before they reached
the lane leading up to Fern's Hollow. The grandfather was half dragged
and half carried along by two of the men, followed by Stephen bearing
sleepy little Nan in his arms, and by Martha, who had wakened up in a
temper between crying and scolding. The long, strange, painful dream of
father's funeral was not over yet, and Stephen was still trying to think
in a stupid, drowsy fashion, when he fell heavily asleep on the bed
beside his grandfather.
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