"I thought I'd recognized ye from the funeral," said the old man brightening up. "I guess you'll be a-noticin' that they's been tramplin' an' settin' on it."
"How frightful! No, I hadn't noticed it. But who would do such a thing?"
"O, they don't mean no harm by it. You see there ain't lights here."
"You don't mean they are body snatchers?"
"Lord no ... It's just young folks. You see, the watchman just can't make his rounds fast enough to keep 'em from grassin' ... 'Ticularly in the spring. It'ld fair surprise ye to see the mashin' and the spoonin' that goes on in the most high-class cemeteries. Yessiree, it'ld fair surprise ye."
"But how do they get in?"
"How did you get in? Ain't no fence at this end."
"You mean they come and make love in the cemetery?"
The old man looked up sideways at Fanshaw and gave a wrinkled wink.
"There's nothin' they don't do, I'm tellin' ye. Worse than the canoes in Norumbega Park for barefaced grassin'. Listen to what happened last night. You know that there tower atop o' the hill? Well, we always lock it up tight, but last night the watchman forgot to, and when the patrolman made his round at 'bout midnight he heard 'em agigglin' and carryin' on up in the tower and found the door was open, an' he went up with his lantern... And they wasn't a bit ashamed or mortified... They just laughed, the fellers and the girls, when he ran 'em out of there ... I don't know what young folks are comin' to in this day an' age ... And they wasn't furriners neither."