Ratcliffe started at the plain question, then laughed. "Of course. Are we wild beasts, thou fool, to stand between any man and decent burial? Look ye, Witherlee, thou hast a dreamer's privilege to ask odd questions, or I would have cracked thee on the mouth for that. What is't to thee whether we do this or that?"
"It's a deal to me," said Witherlee, an odd dignity stiffening his shrivelled body. "There's a place for everything, Maister Ratcliffe, an' all goes i' this world, not by what's done, but by th' place where it's done. If I meet ye on th' oppen high-road, I'll mebbe touch my hat to ye, an' axe no better; if I'm i' th' house, I'll tak a lot o' talk fro' th' wife an' say nowt, for a house is th' woman's, not th' man's; but here i' th' kirkyard I'm my own midden, i' a way o' speaking, and I'll stand interference fro' no man—no, not fro' Parson hisseln, for he's getten th' kirk, an' that's his place. So now ye know, Maister, why I axe if ye'll let th' burying get safely owered wi' afore ye fight—I couldn't thoyle to see outrageous doings amang my quiet folk here; they've addled their rest, poor soul and 'twould be no way seemly to disturb them."
"Thou'rt a thought witless, Sexton, as I've often heard folk say," laughed Ratcliffe.
"Well, I keep different company fro' most folk, and so am like to be a bit queer i' my ways. Have your joke, Maister, an' welcome, so long as ye'll let my work at th' vault here go peaceable to-morn."
"'Twas only thy daft fancy bade thee fear aught else. Put this coin in thy pocket, Witherlee, and let it remind thee there's a grave to be digged come Monday."
"Thankee, an' good-day. I'll none forget th' grave," said Witherlee, holding the coin gingerly between a thumb and forefinger.
"Have they a spare horse at the Bull, think'st thou? I'm going to the tavern now to take the body up to Wildwater, and dead men weigh over-heavy to be carried like maids across one's saddle-crupper."
"Ye'll borrow a horse off Jonas Feather; he bought a fresh one nobbut last week end, I called to mind," said Witherlee. "Lord save us," he added to himself, "to hear him talk so of a corpse that's kin to him! To laugh because his own brother weighs heavier for being dead—nay, they're a mucky breed, these Ratcliffes, an' that's as plain as the kirk-steeply."
The Sexton followed Red Ratcliffe with his eyes as he went down the pathway leading to the tavern; and then he glanced again at the coin in his palm.
"I dursn't say him noy, for fear he'd know how sour he turns me wi' yond weasel-face o' hisn," he went on; "but I don't like th' colour of his brass, for all that, and I'd liefer be without it. What mun I do wi' 't, for it'll fair burn a hole i' my pocket?" His face brightened, and he crossed the graveyard briskly. "I'll tak it to th' wife, that I will," he said; "mebbe she'll tell me what's best to do wi' it."