“No,” said the doctor. “It never has happened. When you're dead, you're dead.”
The doctor took a watch out of his pocket. It was a heavy, old, silver watch, tied to his waistcoat buttonhole with a buckskin string. He opened it, examined it for a moment, then snapped the lid and thrust it back into his pocket. When he looked around the miller was standing in the roadside beside the horse.
“Doctor,” she said, “I'm a-goin' to tell you somethin' that I never told anybody.”
“What about?” said the doctor.
“About what I've just said,” replied the woman.
The doctor reflected for an instant, then he remembered. He shifted his position in the saddle. His voice showed annoyance.
“What cock-an'-bull story have you got a-hold of now?” he said.
“It's no cock-an'-bull story,” replied the miller. “It's the God's truth.”
The doctor made a deprecating gesture with his crooked arm.
“Now, look here, Sal,” lie said, “I haven't time to listen to all the tales you've heard.”