We have nothing told us to support the theory that Deputy's life ever changed in its routine of work, and I am sure you agree with me that there were never an odder pair than the two: Durdles, the stone-mason, and Deputy, his servant.
Perhaps you will be in Cloisterham at some not far distant time; if so, wander out at night in the old graveyard, when the moon is up, and in among the cathedral crypts, if you can gain access to them; and see if from some shadowy corner of lane or building does not start out before you the wraith of the hideous small boy, Deputy, eluding your touch, and chanting as he dances in front of you the old song which was the badge of his office as the keeper of Durdles,——
Widdy widdy wen! I—ket—ches—'im—out—ar—ter—ten,
Widdy widdy wy!
Then—'E—don't—go—then—I—shy,
Widdy widdy Wakecock Warning!
DOTHEBOYS HALL
