"Yes, and cheap, too. Why, I'd ha' charged parson a shilling. How are you?" "How am I? Ah! that's it, is it? That's what you've come for. Not dead yet, Joe Chegg, and they don't want another clerk and saxton for the old church." "Nay--" "Hold your tongue when I'm speaking. Think I don't know you. Want to step in my shoes, do you? Want to marry my grandchild Dally, do you? Well, you're not going to while I'm alive, and I'm going to live another ten year." "That's all right," said the young man, rubbing his face with a hard hand, much tanned, and coated with wax. "I don't want you to die." "Yes, you do," cried the old man fiercely. "I see you looking me up and down, and taking my measure. Think you're going to dig my grave, do you? Well, you're not going to these ten years to come; and p'r'aps I shall dig yours first, Joe Chegg; p'r'aps I shall dig yours." It was a cool morning, in the hunting season, but the young man perspired, and shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "Oh! I don't know, Mr Moredock, sir," he muttered awkwardly. "Then I do," cried the old sexton, dragging his hand out of his trousers' pocket. "There's a fourpenny piece. Quite enough for your job, and I tell you now as I mean to tell you ten year hence, you ain't going to be saxton o' Dook's Hampton while Jonadab Moredock's alive, so be off." "I don't want nothing but what's friendly like, Mr Moredock, sir. I thought as when you was out o' sorts I might be a kind o' depitty like, to ring the bells for you, and dig a grave for you." "Ah!" shouted the old man, "that's it--that's what Parson Salis calls showing the cloven hoof. You said it, and you can't take it back. You'd like to dig a grave for me." "I meant to put some one else in," said the young man, staring. "No, you didn't; you meant to put me in; but I'll live to spite you. I'll ring my own bells, and say my own amens and 'sponses, and dig my own graves; and if you marry Dally Watlock, not a penny does she have o' my money, and I'll burn the cottage down." The young man wiped his forehead and backed slowly towards the door, just inside which he had been standing during the latter part of the interview, and as soon as he was outside he hurried away. "Not going to die yet," muttered the old man. "I can't and won't die yet. I'll let 'em see. Doctor said a man's no business to die till he's quite wore out, and I'm not wore out yet--nothing like. I'll show 'em. Only wish somebody would die, and I'd show 'em. Give up, indeed!"