"We're here, darlings. Come on, let's unload everything."
Mason parked the hearse. Mina, Lunt, and Chris all got up from their seats inside and carried boxes of bread, milk, and assorted jams out of the back.
"Oh, you're wonderful. Looks like you're all grown adults now. I'm so proud of you!"
Encouraged by their elder's praise, the youngsters began working even harder;
Mason, having provided moral support, stepped aside, pulled out his cigarettes, lit one, and began slacking off.
"Mr. Mason, are you slacking off again?"
Startled by the voice, Mason turned to look behind him. What had once been a flower bed outside the church entrance had been turned into a vegetable garden by the new priest.
"Father Rasma, you really nearly scared me into a coffin just now."
"I imagine you've already picked out a coffin you like, so you wouldn't be caught unprepared."
"I wouldn't pick a coffin. I'd pick a vase. I have absolutely no interest in lying in a coffin after I die."
Rasma smiled. "So, is this the tragedy of a grown man? Even when facing death, you're thinking about how to leave as much money as possible to your family."
"No, I just don't think it's worth the price. Besides, there are expensive vases too, you know. They aren't necessarily cheaper than coffins."
"Oh, really?"
"Mostly, I'm worried that if I go before my wife, she'll certainly be sad, but she'll be even angrier. When she does my funeral makeup, she'll probably let some personal grievances slip into her work.
"I can even imagine her deliberately making me look like a clown, then leaving me lying in my coffin for friends and relatives to mourn while she counts how many of them fail to hold back their laughter."
"Mary is a kind woman.