She did not seem to notice me till the last words of the service had been read and the clergyman had gone away; then she came up and spoke to me.
"I couldn't follow along with you," she said, looking at her ragged shawl, "for I haven't a decent suit of clothes to walk in.

I wish I could get vent in crying for her like you, but I can't; all the crying's been drudged and starved out of me long ago.

Don't you think about lighting your fire when you get home.

I'll do that, and get you a drop of tea to comfort you." She seemed on the point of saying a kind word or two more, when, seeing the beadle coming toward me, she drew back, as if she was afraid of him, and left the churchyard.
"Here's my subscription toward the funeral," said the beadle, giving me back his shilling fee.

"Don't say anything about it, for it mightn't be approved of in a business point of view, if it came to some people's ears.