“I beg your pardon,” he said, “for suggesting it. I have been doing so much of this work that I had forgotten how it affected others.”
“What work?”
“Burying people. In the Transvaal. One morning, with a squad, I buried twenty-eight. Nine of them my own friends. So, if I go about this in the simplest way, do not think it is from want of sympathy.”
“I shall understand.”
“Then I will bring that wheelbarrow I saw behind the house.”
He started off, then stopped as if to say something, but hesitated.
“What is it, Mr. Boyd?”
“I am afraid that coffin is too heavy for me. Would you mind helping with it?”
“No. And I can help you with the body, too, if necessary.” And together they returned to the cottage.