men--who wore a high stock and an edging of stiff grey hair around his bald head--advanced to me.
"'This funeral,' said he, 'is over.'
"'Yes, yes,' I stammered, and choked over a sip of sherry.
"'We are waiting--let me tap you on the back--'
"'Thank you.'
"'We are waiting to read the will.'
"I escaped from the room and rushed down to the stables. The ostler was harnessing the one brown horse that remained.
"I was thinking you wouldn't be long, sir. You're the very last, I believe, and here ends a long day's work.'
"I drove off. It was near seven by this, but I didn't even think of the night-class. I was wondering if the horse I drove were really Trumpeter. Somehow--whether because his feed of corn pricked him or no I can't say--he seemed a deal livelier than on the outward journey. I looked at him narrowly in the twilight, and began to feel sure it was another horse. In spite of the cool air a sweat broke out upon me.
