“No, ’twas only his mother-in-law in London, and when he went up to the funeral he had his pocket picked. Quite spoilt his day, I reckon—ha, ha, ha!”
“Buryin’ ain’t a laughin’ matter,” rebuked Caleb stolidly.
“It depends who’s buried,” said Bundock. “I shouldn’t cry over Mrs. Mawhood. Which reminds me that the Deacon sent out the Bellman to say he couldn’t be responsible for her debts.”
“Good!” cried Caleb. Martha paled, but was silent.
“Only the Bellman spoilt it as usual with his silly old jokes. Proclaimed that the Deacon had put his foot down on his wife’s bonnet.”
“He, he, he!” laughed the old couple.
Bundock turned a hopeless hump. “Good morning!”
“And thank you kindly for the letter,” called Martha.
“Don’t mention it,” said Bundock. “And besides I killed—ho, ho, ho!—two frogs!”
They heard his explosions on the quiet air long after he and his royal hump had vanished along the Bradmarsh road.