“Nought like what they have there now, lad,” said the other old lad, both speakers being over eighty; and comfortably seated as they were upon a tombstone, patiently waiting the conclusion of the ceremony, with one exception, they were now the only occupants of the churchyard.
“Well, I don’t know, lad; but we’ll try it, by and by—by and by. We’ll get a lift up ta castle, some gate or other, and see how things are, for such days as this don’t come often.”
“Nay, not often,” said the other. “But it’s open house up there to-day, and there’s to be fine doings after the squire’s gone with his lady.”
“Where are they going, lad?”
“Oh, furren parts, sure; so my boy Jack tells me.”
“And he’s agoin’ too—ain’t he?”
“Ay, lad. He’s Sir Murray’s head man now, and he’s to be butler when they come back; and butlers keep keys, and there’ll be a rare taste or two—eh?”
“Ay; and my Fan’s gal, Jenny, she’s going, you know—my grandchild as has been at parson’s. She’s going with her young missus; and strikes me, neighbour, as young Jack Gurdon’s thinking about her a good deal. Jane’s mother twitted her with it, and the gal laughed; and there might be more strange things come to pass than for they two to come to be butler and housekeeper up ta old place.”
The old men chuckled and blinked at one another upon the tombstone, for a few minutes, and then one spoke:
“Ain’t they a long time getting of it done?”