The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Three more people came to meet them at the door. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt.
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