The man looked at her and nodded in reply.
“Fine day,” he said after a pause.
“Yes, fine day,” said Mrs. Ives, “but you might speak to a body. In Cornwall they speaks to a body when a body curtseys. Isn’t that the manner with Devonshire folk?”
“I don’t mean to be oncivil,” said the man. “Was there anything you wanted to ask, ma’am?”
“I’d be obliged if you’d kindly direct me to the family vault,” said Mrs. Ives.
“What in the name of fortune for?”
“Curiosity, my young lad. If I has a failing it’s unbounded curiosity. I want to see the place where the little Sir Piers is lying till the trump of doom.”
“Oh, if you really wish to see the family vault,” said the man resting on his spade as he spoke, “you just take that turn there to the left and you’ll find yourself alongside the chapel. There’s a lych gate and a graveyard all correct and proper. You go through the gate and you’ll see the vault in front of you.”
“A big vault, I s’pose?” said Mrs. Ives.
“Yes, a big square vault with a stone top. It’s mostly full by now.”