Annie's candle flickered, and she whimpered as the first men appeared, and the limbs and bowed heads of six men struggled to climb into the room, bearing the coffin that rode like sorrow on their living flesh.
"Oh, my son--my son!" Mrs.Morel sang softly, and each time the coffin swung to the unequal climbing of the men: "Oh, my son--my son--my son!" "Mother!" Paul whimpered, his hand round her waist.
She did not hear.
"Oh, my son--my son!" she repeated.
Paul saw drops of sweat fall from his father's brow.

Six men were in the room--six coatless men, with yielding, struggling limbs, filling the room and knocking against the furniture.

The coffin veered, and was gently lowered on to the chairs.

The sweat fell from Morel's face on its boards.
"My word, he's a weight!" said a man, and the five miners sighed, bowed, and, trembling with the struggle, descended the steps again, closing the door behind them.
The family was alone in the parlour with the great polished box.
William, when laid out, was six feet four inches long.

Like a monument lay the bright brown, ponderous coffin.