But in that moment of mortification had unconsciously dawned in the mind of Burleigh Blood the knowledge, that, however great might be his friendship for Patty, he did not love her. It is true that it was some time before he appreciated the discovery; but he was inclined to be very silent on the homeward way, although his companion used her utmost endeavors to restore him to good humor. CHAPTER XIII. AT REHEARSAL. "Well, Bathalina," Mrs. Sanford said with despair in her voice, "if you must go, I suppose you must; but this is the third Wednesday you've been to that funeral, and I think that's plenty. It isn't lucky to put off a funeral; and here's all these cucumbers to pickle, and I can't possibly spare you, but I suppose I'll have to." "Cousin Sam's child don't die every day," the maid retorted; "and of course they couldn't bury her alive." "Oh, dear, no!" her mistress assented. "That would be too awful; but I want you to be sure she is really dead before you go to her funeral again." "Yes, she's dead," was the answer. "Peter Mixon came over last night and told me." "Peter Mixon had better mind his own business. You told me yourself, Bathalina, that he was going to be married this very month to that West girl." "Yes, mum, of course. But it's a great cross to him. He asked me first, and if it hadn't been for my sinful pride I'd a had him in the first place." "Sinful fire-shovels!" Mrs. Sanford exclaimed. "You turned him off because he was after the money you've got in the bank, so don't let me hear any more about him. If you are going to this protracted funeral, go along; and I do hope the remains won't need a great deal more burying. As for Peter Mixon, the less you have to do with him the better." "I feel confident," Bathalina answered, "that it's the last funeral the child'll ever have; but in the midst of life we are in death." "You may be," retorted her mistress bustling about; "but _I'm_ in the midst of pickling, and can't stop to talk. Go along." "Mother," Patty asked, appearing in the doorway, "what is the trouble?" "Bathalina has gone traipsing off to her funeral again; and here are these cucumbers to do, and the kitchen all in heaps. She's got fool in the head worse than ever to-day." "What awful slang, mother. Never mind, I'll help." The next visitor to the kitchen was Flossy, who, having searched the rest of the house for her cousin, at length discovered her with sleeves rolled up, engaged in washing dishes. "Goodness gracious, Patsy!" she exclaimed. "Are you here?" "Mercy sakes, Flossy!" said her aunt. "Don't say 'goodness gracious,' it sounds so." "No: I'll say 'mercy sakes,' Aunt Britann," her niece returned saucily. "Patty, what are you washing dishes for?" "Somebody must do it; and Bathalina, the insane, has gone off." "You are becoming a very model miss. Have you forgotten they are coming this morning to read this play?"