§ 107 Bumpy Times for the Late Lamented
The late Mr. Donovan had had a very close call from being a dwarf. Indeed, there are dwarfs in circuses not many inches shorter than he was. Despite his diminutive bulk and the handicap of lack of height he nevertheless had succeeded in the contracting business and when he died he left a tidy estate and his widow mourned him properly.
On the day before the funeral, having finished the preparations for the wake, she sat in the parlor of her home when Mr. McKenna, an old friend of the family, was announced. Dressed in his Sunday best Mr. McKenna entered and having shaken Mrs. Donovan’s hand stated that he would be unable to attend the ceremonies that evening owing to other engagements. He asked, therefore, if he might be permitted to take a last look at the deceased.
“Help yourself,” said the widow. “He’s laid out upstairs in the front room. Just you walk up, Mr. McKenna.”
So Mr. McKenna walked up. After the lapse of a few minutes he tip-toed down again, wiping away his tears.
The widow removed the handkerchief from her eyes.
“Did you think to close the hall door as you came down, Mr. McKenna?” she asked.
“I think so, madam,” he said. “I was so overcome wit’ me grief I didn’t take much note. I think so, but I won’t be sure.”
“Would you make sure, thin,” she said. “It’s twice to-day already the cat’s had him downstairs.”