ten o'clock
There was a gentle tap on the door , and an ancient darky entered , with a tall glass of whipped-cream punch , light as a feather , and as delicate as thought . Then , breakfast , in a long , low-ceilinged room on the ground floor , with a blazing fire at each end , a pickaninny gravely watchful over both . Only the male members of the family were at the meal , which was a solemn festival as befitting a house of mourning . At ten o'clock the funeral procession left the mansion and slowly wound its way along a rough road to a little weather-beaten church a mile or so distant . It was set well back from the highway in the shadow of tall pines , and looked lonely and uncared-for . In the churchyard were a few scattered tombstones , moss-grown , and very much awry . The graves were unkempt and sunken , and weeds and poison ivy struggled for the mastery .