"Oh! never mind that, Moredock; Mr Salis is sorry you are ill. He's a good fellow, and he sent me on this morning. You're a bit nervous and shaken at what you fancied you saw. Come, Moredock, old man, I'm a doctor, and you're a sexton, and we're too much men of the world--we've seen and known too much--to be afraid of ghosts, eh?" "Ghosts! Sperits! I'm afraid of no ghosts, doctor; but I see that thing o' Saturday night." "Thought you saw it, old chap!" "Nay, doctor, I saw it; and that's what scares me." "Pooh! You scared at something you saw--a hollow turnip and a sheet! A trick played by some scamp in the village." "Trick played? Nay, doctor; there isn't a lad in the village dare do it. I know 'em. I aren't scared at the thing I saw. It's at what it means." "What it means! Then, what does it mean?" "Notice to quit this here earthly habitation, as parson calls it, doctor. That's what it means." "Rubbish!" "Ah! you say that to hide your bad work, doctor, and because you know you arn't done your duty by me." "Why, you ungrateful old humbug! I've done no end for you. Haven't I gone on oiling your confounded old hinges for years past, to keep you from dropping off, rusted out?" "Ah! I don't say anything again that, doctor; but you've always thought me a poor man, and you've treated me like a poor man--exactly like. If you'd thought me well off, and you could send me in a big bill, you'd have had me in such condition that I shouldn't have seen my fetch last night." "Seen your grandmother, man." "Ay, you may laugh, doctor; but what have you told me over and over again? `Moredock,' says you, `a healthy man's no business to die till he's quite worn out.' And `What age will that be, doctor?' says I. `Oh! at any age,' says you; and here am I, a hale, hearty man, only a little more'n ninety, and last night I see my fetch." "But you're not a hale, hearty man, Moredock." "Tchah! Whatcher talking about? Why, I'd 'bout made up my mind to be married again." "You? Married? Why, even I don't think of such a thing." "You? No," said the old man, contemptuously. "You're not half the man I've been. My son's gal--Dally Watlock's 'fended me, and if she don't mind she'll lose my bit o' money." "You take my advice, Moredock, and don't marry." "Shan't leave you nothing, if I don't marry, doctor," said the old man, with a cunning leer; "and you needn't send in no bills because you've found out I've got a bit saved up." "Why, you wicked old ruffian, I suppose you've scraped together a few pounds by trafficking in old bones, and of what you've robbed the church." "Never you mind, doctor, how I got it, or how much it is." "I don't; but just you be wise, sir. You're not going to marry again, and you're going to leave your money to your grandchild." "Eh? What--what? Do you want to marry her?"