I was kind o' took with the idea; the things was so shiny and scilloped at the edges, peered like it was payin' considerable respect to the dead to kiver them that-a-way." "What good would it do ?" asked mother.

"The sun shining on the iron would make it so hot it would burn any flower you tried to plant in the opening; the water couldn't reach the roots, and all that fell on the slab would run off and make it that much wetter at the edges.

The iron would soon rust and grow dreadfully ugly lying under winter snow.
There is nothing at all in it, save a method to work on the feelings of the living, and get them to pay their money for something that wouldn't affect their dead a particle." "'Twould be a poor idea for me," said Mrs.Freshett.

"I said to the men that I wanted to honour Henry all I could, but with my bulk, I'd hev all I could do, come Jedgment Day, to bust my box, an' heave up the clods, without havin' to hist up a piece of iron an' klim from under it." Mother stiffened and Leon slipped again.

He could have more accidents than any boy I ever knew.