"You are making very sure of me," remarked the antiquary, with a grim smile.
"Ay, by ——, I am," rejoined the grave-digger, "for when I've once seen a man's corpse candle——"
There is no knowing how much longer the conversation might have lasted, if at this moment two villagers had not entered the churchyard, so Oldstone, not wishing to be overheard, nodded to the sexton, and added, "Till we meet again." He then bent his steps towards the inn, and, arriving there, was greeted by his friend Rustcoin, who had just arrived. It was years since these two friends had met, and doubtless each found the other vastly changed.
"Why, surely, old friend, you are not so bad as you try to make out," observed Rustcoin. "You look hale and hearty still. You are up, and walking about."
"Well, do you know how much longer they give me to live?" asked Oldstone.
"No. Who?" inquired Rustcoin. "The doctor?"
"Well, not exactly. A prophet."
"A prophet, eh? That's interesting; and who may this prophet be, if I might ask?"
"The grave-digger."
"The grave-digger! What does he know about it?"