The ceremony ended; and Jones hastened to throw the earth back again into the grave.
The surgeon exchanged a few words with the Resurrection Man, and then departed towards his home.
Mr. Banks and the Buffer accompanied the Resurrection Man to his own abode, where they found a copious repast ready to be served up to them by the Rattlesnake. The Buffer's wife was also there; and the party sat down with a determination to enjoy themselves.
To accomplish this most desirable aim there were ample means. A huge round of beef smoked upon the board, flanked with sundry pots of porter; and on a side-table stood divers bottles of "Booth's best."
"Well," said Mr. Banks, "the worst part now is over. We have got the body under ground—"
"And we must soon get it up again," added the Resurrection Man drily. "You are sure the old woman put the money in the coffin?"
"I see her do it," answered the undertaker. "She wrapped it up in a old stocking which belonged to the blessed defunct—"
"Blessed defunct indeed!" said the Rattlesnake, with a coarse laugh.
"You see, ma'am, I can't divest myself of my professional lingo," observed Mr. Banks. "It comes natural to me now. But as I was a saying, I see the old woman wrap the thirty-one quids up in the toe of a stocking, and put it on his breast—"
"On the shroud, or underneath?" demanded the Resurrection Man eagerly.