She sat down and began to busy herself with the teapot. Her hand trembled. I requested Percivale to begin his story once more; and he evidently enjoyed recounting to her the adventures of the night.
I asked him to sit down and have a second breakfast while I went into the village, whereto he seemed nothing loth.
As I crossed the floor of the old mill to see how Joe was, the head of the sexton appeared emerging from it. He looked full of weighty solemn business. Bidding me good-morning, he turned to the corner where his tools lay, and proceeded to shoulder spade and pickaxe.
“Ah, Coombes! you’ll want them,” I said.
“A good many o’ my people be come all at once, you see, sir,” he returned. “I shall have enough ado to make ‘em all comfortable like.”
“But you must get help, you know; you can never make them all comfortable yourself alone.”
“We’ll see what I can do,” he returned. “I ben’t a bit willin’ to let no one do my work for me, I do assure you, sir.”
“How many are there wanting your services?” I asked.
“There be fifteen of them now, and there be more, I don’t doubt, on the way.”
“But you won’t think of making separate graves for them all,” I said. “They died together: let them lie together.”