"Ah!" said the curate, shaking his head at the sexton. "Doctor's going to let me have another bottle of the stuff as I told you 'bout, sir." "Indeed!" said Salis, rather gruffly. "I wish you could do without so many bottles of stuff, Moredock. But, there, I wanted to see you about the preparations." "Don't you trouble yourself about that, sir," grumbled the old fellow. "It ain't the first time a Candlish has died, and I've put things ready. That'll be all right, sir. That's my business. You shan't have no cause to complain." "Be a little extra particular about the church and the yard, Moredock; and, above all, have those sheep out. Mr May writes me word that he shall come down from town on purpose to read the service over Sir Luke, and he hates to see sheep in the churchyard." "'Member what I said, doctor?" chuckled the old man. "But what am I to do, sir? Churchwarden Sir Luke had 'em put there; who's to order 'em to be took away?" "I will!" said the curate sharply. "There, that will do." Moredock trudged away. "I'm afraid I have a morbid antipathy to that old man," said the curate. "Ah, he's a character." "Yes, and a bad one, too: I'm glad we have his grandchild away from him." "So am I, and if I were you, Salis, I'd keep a sharp look-out on the girl." "Yes, of course!" said the curate impatiently. "But you heard what I said about May coming down?" "Yes; but what does that matter?" "Only a long series of lectures to me, which makes my blood boil. I've had another unpleasantly, too. I went up to the Hall to see--Sir Thomas--I suppose I must call him now, and he sent me out an insolent message; at least, I thought it so." "Never mind, old fellow; we all have our troubles." "Not going to trouble," said the curate quietly. "Coming my way?" "No. I want another word with Moredock, and then I'm going home." "Ah, he's a queer old fellow," said the curate, glancing towards the sexton as he went round the chancel with a crowbar over his shoulder, the old man turning to give both a cunning, magpie-like look, as he went out of sight. The two friends parted, and then North followed the sexton. "I don't like it," he muttered. "Salis would be horrified; he would never forgive me; and yet to win the sister's, I am risking the brother's love. Oh, but it is more than that," he said excitedly; "far more than that. It is in the service of science and of humanity at large. I can't help it. I must--I will!" There was tremendous emphasis on that "I will!" and, as if now fully resolved, he went to where the old sexton was scraping and chopping about the entrance of the mausoleum, and sometimes stooping to drag out a luxuriant weed. "Ah, doctor," he said; "back again? Parson's a bit hard on me. I hope he hasn't been running me down." "Nonsense! No. Look here, Moredock, you have always expressed a desire to serve me?" "Yes, doctor; of course."