“‘And who, then, is our fair and lawful prize?’
“To this inquiry the invisible chorus replied, in a strain that sounded like the voices of many choristers singing to the mighty swell of the old church organ—a strain that seemed borne to the sexton’s ears upon a gentle wind, and to die away as its soft breath passed onward—but the burden of the reply was still the same, ‘Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!’
“The goblin grinned a broader grin than before, as he said, ‘Well, Gabriel, what do you say to this?’
“The sexton gasped for breath.
“‘What do you think of this, Gabriel?’ said the goblin, kicking up his feet in the air on either side the tombstone, and looking at the turned-up points with as much complacency as if he had been contemplating the most fashionable pair of Wellingtons in all Bond Street.
“‘It’s—it’s—very curious, Sir,’ replied the sexton, half dead with fright, ‘very curious, and very pretty, but I think I’ll go back and finish my work, Sir, if you please.’
“‘Work!’ said the goblin, ‘what work?’
“‘The grave, Sir, making the grave,’ stammered the sexton.
“‘Oh, the grave, eh?’ said the goblin, ‘who makes graves at a time when all other men are merry, and takes a pleasure in it?’
“Again the mysterious voices replied, ‘Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!’