“And he micht hae had a nicer burial,” said the cousin’s wife, with firmness. “Preserve us!” cried Erchie. “Whit wad ye like?--Flags maybe? Or champagne wine at the liftin’? Or maybe wreaths o’ floo’ers? If it was cheeriness ye were wantin’ wi’ puir Macphee, ye should hae come a month ago and he micht hae ta’en ye himsel’ to the Britannia Music-ha’.” “Haud yer tongue, Erchie,” said Jinnet; and the cousin’s wife, as fast as she could, took all the hair-pins out of her head and put them in again,--“They think we’re that faur back in Fintry,” she said with fine irrelevance. “Not at all,” said Erchie, who saw his innocent wife was getting all the cousin’s wife’s fierce glances, “Not at all, mem. There’s naething wrang wi’ Fintry; mony a yin I’ve sent there. I’m rale chawed we didna hae a Fintry kind o’ funeral, to please ye. Whit’s the patent thing aboot a Fintry funeral?” “For wan thing,” said the cousin’s wife, “it’s aye a rale hearse we hae at Fintry and no’ a box under a machine, like thon. It was jist a disgrace. Little did his mither think it wad come to thon. Ye wad think it was coals.” “And whit’s the maitter wi’ coals?” cried Duffy, his professional pride aroused. “Coals was his tred. Ye’re shairly awfu’ toffs in Fintry aboot yer funerals.” The cousin’s wife stabbed her head all over again with her hair-pins, and paid no heed to him. Her husband evaded her eyes with great determination. “No’ that great toffs either,” she retorted, “but we can aye afford a bit crape. There wasna a sowl that left this close behind the corp the day had crape in his hat except my ain man.” Then the man to whom Big Macphee owed money laughed. “Crape’s oot o’ date, mistress,” Erchie assured her. “It’s no’ the go noo at a’ in Gleska; ye micht as weel expect to see the auld saulies.” “Weel, it’s the go enough in Fintry,” said the cousin’s wife. “And there was anither thing; I didna expect to see onybody else but my man in weepers, him bein’ the only freen’ puir Macphee had but-----” “I havena seen weepers worn since the year o’ the Tay Bridge,” said Erchie, “and that was oot at the Mearns.” “Weel, we aye hae them at Fintry,” insisted the cousin’s wife. “A cheery chap,” said Jinnet again, at her wits’-end to put an end to this restrained wrangling, and the man Big Macphee owed money to laughed again. “Whit’s mair,” went on the cousin’s wife, “my man was the only wan there wi’ a dacent shirt wi’ Erchie tucks on the breist o’t; the rest o’ ye had that sma’ respect for the deid ye went wi’ shirt-breists as flet as a sheet o’ paper. It was showin’ awfu’ sma’ respect for puir Macphee,” and she broke down with her handkerchief at her eyes. “Och! ta bleezes! Jessie, ye’re spilin’ a’ the fun,” her husband remonstrated.