"I'll fix 'em," he said to himself. "I'll go to-day to Ricketts, the
marble-cutter, and order my own tombstone."
Three months thereafter, Ricketts, the marble-cutter, untied the knot in
the stocking that had been Billy's and deposited the contents in the local
savings-bank.
In the cemetery stood a monument very lofty and elaborate. Around it was an
iron fence. Within the enclosure there was no grave as yet.
"Here," said the monument, in deep-cut-letters, but bad English, "lies all
that remains of Thomas McGuffy, born in Rearward, November 11, 1820; died
----. Gone whither the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at
rest."
This supplementary information was framed in the words of Tommy's favourite
passage in his favourite hymn. His liking for this was mainly on account of
its tune.
He had left the date of his death to be inserted by the marble cutter after
its occurrence.
Rearward folks were amused at sight of the monument, and they ascribed the
placing of it there to the eccentricity of a taciturn old man.
Tommy seemed to derive much pleasure from visiting his tombstone on mild
days.
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