Once Steve arrived in Manhattan, he rented a wagon, had the plain wooden coffin loaded onto it, and asked for directions to Chelsea—he’d lived in Brooklyn after he’d graduated from West Point and was more familiar with that city.
He hadn’t been surprised at how little cash money Tom had in his effects. Steve knew he sent almost every penny home to his family. So Steve had paid for the embalming and the coffin, and obtained leave to bring his friend home.
He found the little cottage and had to admit Tom had been right—he’d described it as home, and it was. More than that, it was charming, with a fresh coat of whitewash over the clapboard sides and sparkling windowpanes. A lilac bush to the left of the path that led to the front door would be in bloom in a few weeks, and flower beds grew i
