Before Rhoda, full of the importance of her message, reached Cottages, its inhabitants were agog. A little bird had carried the news of Mrs. Byron’s death and those whom it least concerned were discussing it. Mrs. Bate, who lived in the end cottage of the hamlet, a tiny two-roomed place, had for many years been Stripper, or, as some call the woman who prepares the dead for their last journey, ’Nurse’ to the community. As soon as a death occurred, she was sent for and her duty it was not only to strip the clothes from the corpse and array it in fine linen, but to receive the many visitors and conduct them, in turn, to the death-chamber. On the day of the funeral her position was one of some importance. She was the undertaker’s right hand. Indeed, the responsibility for the smooth working of the arrangements rested on her rather than on him. When the news reached Mrs. Bate, therefore, that Mrs. Byron of Wastralls had died during the night, she knew that she would be wanted. Though the possessor of a handsome jolly face she was given to timid fears and, after raking out her fire, she went across to Mrs. Blewett, the seamstress, better known as ’Aunt Louisa,’ to have one of these resolved. "Mrs. Rosevear sure to be there," she said anxiously, "and she could set Mrs. Byron forth if her liked; but she wouldn’t do anybody out of a job, would she?" ’Aunt Louisa,’ slim and, in spite of the wear and tear of life still graceful, was fitting the cover to her machine. "She bin poor ’erself," she said encouragingly. The two old bodies had lived in the same parish for seventy years, and as next-door neighbours, for thirty. She knew that Fanny Bate, in spite of her large well-covered frame and square face, found it difficult to stand alone. "I wouldn’t miss doing this," said Mrs. Bate, her old blue eyes still anxious, "for all the golden sovereigns in Trevorrick. When Judgment Day come, there won’t be many from ’ere but what will look up and thank me for settin’ ’em forth." "If you set ’em forth," said Aunt Louisa, remembering the many shrouds her fingers had fashioned, "I’ve made the things for ’m." "Iss, but I’ve nursed and tended them as well as set them forth," she would not admit the other’s claim to a share in the work of preparing the neighbourhood for burial. "And I think of their souls, too, poor things. ’Tis better to look after their souls than their bodies. ’Tis an awful thing to die not being prepared to meet God. I sing hymns till they’m happy and not afraid to die. I ’ope ’tis all right with poor Mrs. Byron’s soul," she paused, a little troubled by Sabina’s eminent unpreparedness, "but she was always a good-livin’ woman and God is merciful to the last." Aunt Louisa turned her quiet grey eyes on the other woman and in them was a suggestion from, which Mrs. Bate shrank in pretended ignorance. "Must ’av died pretty and suddent!" said the seamstress.