This decided Mrs. Pennycook. She dilated upon the importance of having
a clergyman come down from Bakersfield for the funeral, and suggested
the services (at the metropolitan rates usually accorded such
functionaries) of the local alleged quartette, which regularly made
night hideous in San Pasqual's lone barber shop.

"It'll be kinder nice like, don't you think, Donna?" she queried.

Donna nodded dubiously.

"An' what was your poor dear mamma's church?" continued Mrs. Pennycook.

"She didn't have any" Donna answered, truthfully enough.

Again Mrs. Pennycook sniffed. "Well, then, I suppose Mr. Tillingham, of
the Universal Church--"

Donna interrupted. "Mamma always knew she would be taken from me
without warning, and she often told me not to give her an expensive
funeral. I think she would have liked some services but I can't afford
them."

"But, dearie, that's so barbarous like!" exclaimed the dismayed
Samaritan. "There ought to be some one to say some prayers an' sing a
hymn or two."

"Mamma always said she wanted to be buried simply. She thought it was
sweet and beautiful to have services, but not essential. She was always
skimping and saving for me, Mrs. Pennycook. She said I wasn't to wear