“Where shall I find Thomas?” said he at last, getting desperate.
“In the servants' hall, I think, sir. But won't you take anything?” said the matron, looking rather disappointed.
“No, thank you,” said he, and strode off again to find the old verger, who was sitting in his little den, as of old, puzzling over hieroglyphics.
He looked up through his spectacles as Tom seized his hand and wrung it.
“Ah! you've heard all about it, sir, I see,” said he. Tom nodded, and then sat down on the shoe-board, while the old man told his tale, and wiped his spectacles, and fairly flowed over with quaint, homely, honest sorrow.
[Original]
By the time he had done Tom felt much better.
“Where is he buried, Thomas?” said he at last.
“Under the altar in the chapel, sir,” answered Thomas. “You'd like to have the key, I dare say?”