He was communing with himself, for apparently his conscience was pricking him with reminders of the past.
“Well,” he muttered, “it was only lead, and bits o’ zinc did just as well. Sold one of the bells if I could? Well, so I would, if they hadn’t been so heavy. Much mine as anybody else’s. I’m ’bout the oldest man in Hampton!”
He smoked on furiously, and shifted about in his chair.
“What was a man to do? Go to workhouse when he got old? No, I wouldn’t do that. Only a few bones as the doctors wanted, and as would ha’ rotted in the ground if they’d been left. Do good, too. Them as they b’longed to’s glad they’re able to do good with them, I know.
“Wish I’d a drop o’ that physic, now. Seems to stir a man up like, and give him strength. Nasty job, but I’m not skeared! It was fancy that night. If I’d had a drop o’ doctor’s stuff I shouldn’t ha’ seen that head going along above the pews. No, I’m not skeared; but will he see—will he see?”
The old man fidgeted about uneasily in his chair, and had to refill and relight his pipe.
“Tchah! What would he know about ’em? How could he tell? Nobody but me’s ever been down there, ’cept at funerals, and them as lives don’t want ’em; they b’long to the dead. Dead don’t want ’em, so they b’long to me. Ah!”
“Why, Moredock, did I frighten you?”
“Frighten me! No. Nothing frightens me; but you shouldn’t come so sudden like upon a man.”
“You shouted as if you had been hurt. What makes you sit in the dark?”