“Hold our tongues.”
After a long pause, whilst the girl clung to her, she added, “No good can come of us speaking what we know, and what we fancy. It can but heap up a great pile of misery and shame. If it comes to an inquiry in court’that’s another matter. They won’t call on me, as I am Pasco’s wife, but they will on you, and you must up and speak the truth at any cost. But if there be no such inquiry, then hold your tongue, as I will mine. The mischief, so far, has come from what we have said. We can do no good; we may make the affair worse for ourselves if we talk. Leave him in the hands of God, to do wi’ him as He wills.”
Kate kissed her aunt and promised silence.
Then both went forth, and reached the crowd about the ruins and piles of ashes, as Pepperill was saying in a loud tone, “I don’t say you won’t find bones. I believe now I had a pile, but all mutton and beef bones.”
“Why, what were you doing wi’ bones?” asked Pooke.
“Collecting of ’em for dressing,” answered Pepperill promptly. “I’ve been in the hide line some while, and lately I took a fancy to bones also; but I didn’t do much, just begun on it, so to speak’all ox and sheep bones’nothing else. Pound bones up wi’ a hammer, they’re fine for turnips. Jason put me up to speculating in bones.”
The mass of crumbling wall, charred beam, and cinder was speedily attacked by the workmen under the direction of the constable, who had much difficulty in keeping the curious at a distance; men, women, and children were eager to assist with their hands, or advise with their tongues. They ran into danger by approaching tottering walls. They trampled down the ashes; they got in the way of the workmen; and occasionally a scream and an objurgation was the result of a labourer casting his shovelful of cinders in the face of an inquisitive spectator who got in his way. Mr. Pooke protested and stormed, but with little avail; all were too interested to attend to his orders, and he was without assistants to enforce them.
Pepperill bustled about, vociferating, driving spectators back, encouraging workmen, running after cakes and cider, and making the confusion greater. Kate sat on a fallen beam, chin in hand, watching intently every spade as it turned the ashes, wincing at every pick driven into the cinder heaps. The tears were trickling down her cheeks.
Then Walter Bramber, who had just arrived, went up to Farmer Pooke and asked leave to run a cord across from one rail to another, and volunteered with the assistance of Noah Flood and John Pooke to keep the people from interference.
“Why should they be kept back? Don’t they want to find what has become of Mr. Quarm every whit as much as me? Let ’em come on,” shouted Pepperill.