There was a wake that night to the unconfined joy of the neighbors, who
would rather a burial than a wedding. The friends of the family sat
about the coffin, and through the house with long pulled faces. Mrs.
Tuckley officiated in the kitchen, making coffee and dispensing cheese
and crackers to those who were hungry. As the night wore on, and the
first restraint disappeared, jokes were cracked, and quiet laughter
indulged in, while the young folks congregated in the kitchen, were
hilariously happy, until some member of the family would appear, when
every face would sober down.
The older persons contented themselves with recounting the virtues of
the deceased, and telling anecdotes wherein he figured largely. It was
astonishing how many intimate friends of his had suddenly come to
light. Every other man present had either attended school with him, or
was a close companion until he died. Proverbs and tales and witty
sayings were palmed off as having emanated from his lips. In fact, the
dead man would have been surprised himself, had he suddenly come to life
and discovered what an important, what a modern solomon he had become.
The long night dragged on, and the people departed in groups of twos and
threes, until when the gray dawn crept slowly over the blackness of
night shrouding the electric lights in mists of cloudy blue, and sending
cold chills of dampness through the house, but a few of the great crowd
remained.
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