"Got?--there?" said the old man suspiciously. "Oh! only them two. Nothing more--nothing more." But the next instant, as if won over to confidence in his visitor, or feeling bound to trust him, he screwed up his face in a strange leering way and opened the coffer wide. "You may look in," he said. "You're a doctor, and won't tell. They're for the doctors." "Your customers, eh?" "Customers?" said the old man sharply; "who said a word about customers?" "You did. So you deal in those things?" "No, no; not deal in 'em. I find one sometimes--very old--very old. Been in the earth a mort o' years." As he spoke he watched the doctor curiously while he inspected the specimens of osteology in the oak chest. Then, taking up a tin canister from the bottom, he gave it a shake, the contents rattling loudly, and upon opening it he displayed it half full of white, sound teeth. "Dentists," he said, with a grin, which showed his own two or three blackened fangs. "They uses 'em. False teeth. People thinks they're ivory. So they are." "Why, Moredock, what a wicked old wretch you are," said the doctor. "I don't wonder you feel afraid to die." "Wicked? No more wicked than my neighbours, doctor. Every one's afraid to die, and wants to live longer. Wicked! How could I save a few pounds together, to keep me out o' the workus when I grow's old, if I didn't do something like this?" "Ah, how indeed?" said the doctor, looking half-wonderingly at the strange old being. "And my grandchild, Dalily, up at the Rectory. Man must save--must save. Besides, it's doing good." "Good, eh?" "Yes," said the old fellow, with a hideous grin. "Lots o' them never did no good in their lives, and maybe they're thankful now they're dead to find that, after all, they're some use to their fellow-creatures." "Ah! Moredock, people are always ready to find an excuse for their wrong-doing. Seems to me that I ought to expose you up at the Rectory." "Nay, you won't tell the parson, doctor?" said the old man, with a chuckle. "No, I shall say nothing, Moredock." "No, doctor, you can't. You're in it. You set me to get that for you." "There, stop that confounded laugh of yours, and take this quietly to the Manor House to-night. Shall you be well enough?" "Have--have you got any more o' that Hollands gin, doctor?" whispered the old man, with a leer. "About another glassful, I dare say." "Then I shall be well enough to come, doctor. Nobody shall see what it is. And look here: you keep me alive and well, and you shall have anything you want, doctor. Parson's master in the church, but I'm master outside, and in the tombs, and in the old Candlish morslem. Like to see in it, doctor?" "Pah! not I. See enough of the miserable breed alive without seeing them dead. Good morning."