"Did they find out what she died of?" asked Hal.
"Of a knife in her throat, of course," laughed the old bailiff grimly.
"But what was the matter first, I mean," explained Hal.
Farmer Bluff shook his head. "They brought her in to me," said he; "and I couldn't see, except that she was dying pretty fast. So I told 'em to put an end to it."
"You'll have an inquest, won't you?" said Hal presently.
Farmer Bluff laughed outright. "An inquest on a goose!" roared he. "Upon my soul, young master, you're an original; though, when you come to look at it, half the inquests are on geese. He! he!—" And he laughed again at his own wit.
But Hal was quite in earnest. To him there was nothing funny in it at all. "There always is a post-mortem," said he seriously, "when anybody dies without the doctor being able to tell the cause of death. I think that if I were you, I should like to know why that goose died. It might enable you to prevent any more of them dying the same way, you know. Perhaps it was something in the food."
Farmer Bluff shook his head. "I daresay it's been 'post-mortemed' for somebody's dinner by now," said he, with grim humour. "I told 'em to cut her throat and put her underground; but such as them don't often get the chance to taste goose flesh. I'll be bound she's twirling on the spit by now."
After a little more talk, Hal took his crutches. "Well," said he, "I must wish you 'good morning,' Mr. Bluff; and as you've got the gout in your right arm I won't trouble you to shake hands. But I'd have it out of there, if I were you, feet and all. You really must think about that mug this time; now, won't you? I'm certain it's the mug that does the mischief; because, you see, you're proud of it, and directly we're proud of anything, we forget all the rest. But you won't have a goose to put it out of your head this time?"
Farmer Bluff replied that he "hoped to goodness not."