"I've been watching from the back window," he said, nodding. "You're a wonder; that's what you are. Come and look at him."
Mrs. Waters followed, and leaning out of the window watched with simple pleasure the efforts of the amateur sexton. Mr. Benn was digging like one possessed, only pausing at intervals to straighten his back and to cast a fearsome glance around him. The only thing that marred her pleasure was the behaviour of Mr. Travers, who was struggling for a place with all the fervour of a citizen at the Lord Mayor's show.
"Get back," she said, in a fierce whisper. "He'll see you."
Mr. Travers with obvious reluctance obeyed, just as the victim looked up.
"Is that you, Mrs. Waters?" inquired the boatswain, fearfully.
"Yes, of course it is," snapped the widow. "Who else should it be, do you think? Go on! What are you stopping for?"
Mr. Benn's breathing as he bent to his task again was distinctly audible. The head of Mr. Travers ranged itself once more alongside the widow's. For a long time they watched in silence.
"Won't you come down here, Mrs. Waters?" called the boatswain, looking up so suddenly that Mr. Travers's head bumped painfully against the side of the window. "It's a bit creepy, all alone."
"I'm all right," said Mrs. Waters.
"I keep fancying there's something dodging behind them currant bushes," pursued the unfortunate Mr. Benn, hoarsely. "How you can stay there alone I can't think. I thought I saw something looking over your shoulder just now. Fancy if it came creeping up behind and caught hold of you! The widow gave a sudden faint scream.