"And suppose I put it into the Chancery Court, sir?"
"Then no one will ever get it out again—that's all."
"But if some relation comes for'ard?"
"Then he'll just have to pay two pounds costs for every pound he draws out."
"Lack-a-daisy me!" ejaculated the widow. "I raly think it would be best to bury the money in the poor old gentleman's coffin."
"I am sure it would be," said the reverend adviser; "and although you would be giving up a treasure in this life, you would be laying up for yourself a treasure in heaven."
"Ah! well-a-day, sir—we must all think of that. I shall foller your advice, and bury the money with the poor man in his coffin."
"Without mentioning the business to a soul except Mr. Banks," said the saintly man, in an impressive tone.
"Or else his rest might be disturbed—eh, sir?" demanded the widow, sinking her voice to a whisper. "But do you think there's such people as resurrection men now-a-days?"
"Resurrection men!" ejaculated the reverend visitor, bursting out into a laugh; "no, my dear madam—society has got rid of those abominations."