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swered.
They went back into the sitting-room, and Philip told
him what arrangements he had made for the funeral.
‘I hoped you’ve spared no expense. I should like the
hearse to be followed by a long string of empty coaches, and
I should like the horses to wear tall nodding plumes, and
there should be a vast number of mutes with long streamers
on their hats. I like the thought of all those empty coaches.’
‘As the cost of the funeral will apparently fall on me and
I’m not over flush just now, I’ve tried to make it as moder-
ate as possible.’
‘But, my dear fellow, in that case, why didn’t you get him
a pauper’s funeral? There would have been something poet-
ic in that. You have an unerring instinct for mediocrity.’
Philip flushed a little, but did not answer; and next day
he and Upjohn followed the hearse in the one carriage
which Philip had ordered. Lawson, unable to come, had
sent a wreath; and Philip, so that the coffin should not seem
too neglected, had bought a couple. On the way back the
coachman whipped up his horses. Philip was dog-tired
and presently went to sleep. He was awakened by Upjohn’s
voice.
‘It’s rather lucky the poems haven’t come out yet. I think
we’d better hold them back a bit and I’ll write a preface. I
began thinking of it during the drive to the cemetery. I be-
lieve I can do something rather good. Anyhow I’ll start with
an article in The Saturday.’
Philip did not reply, and there was silence between them.
At last Upjohn said: