"To be sure you were. God made you so."
"Surely, sir. Who else?"
"Then I suppose he likes making people comfortable if he makes people like to be comfortable."
"It du look likely enough, sir."
"Then when he takes it out of your hands, you mustn't think he doesn't look after the people you would make comfortable if you could."
"I must mind my work, you know, sir."
"Yes, surely. And you mustn't want to take his out of his hands, and go grumbling as if you would do it so much better if he would only let you get your hand to it."
"I daresay you be right, sir," he said. "I must just go and have a look about, though. Here's Agnes. She'll tell you about mother."
He took his spade from the corner, and went out. He often brought his tools into the cottage. He had carved the handle of his spade all over with the names of the people he had buried.
"Tell your mother, Agnes, that I will call in the evening and see her, if she would like to see me. We are going now to see Mrs. Stokes. She is very poorly, I hear."