The old man was in his shirt-sleeves, and his coat hung up behind the door, with his cap above it, so that it bore a strong resemblance to the old sexton, who had apparently been bringing his existence to an end by means of a piece of rope belonging to a bell. "Hallo, Dally!" said the old man, giving her one of his ghoulish grins, as if proud of the yellow tooth still left; "what have you come for?" "I want to see squire's funeral, gran'fa. To get a good place." "Ah, I know'd you'd come," said the old man. "I say, Dally; Sir Tom Candlish, eh? Have you tried how it sounds?" "What nonsense, gran'fa! and do a-done. You'll have some one hear you." "He--he--he! Let 'em," chuckled the old man; "let 'em. Sir Thomas Candlish, eh?" "I don't know what you mean," said the girl, giving her head a vain toss. _Boom_! went the bell, after the rope had rattled; and the old man groaned with the effort. "He--he--he! No, no, you don't know," he chuckled, moving sidewise, and giving the girl a sharp nudge with his elbow. "But, my word, Dally, you do look pretty this morning." "Don't, gran'fa. What stuff!" "Oh, but you do," said the old man, looking at her critically; "and fine and smart too for coming to a funeral." "Why, you wouldn't have had me wear black, gran'fa, would you?" They were quite alone in the belfry, and as the old man talked, he from time to time gave a steady pull at the rope, and a heavy, jarring _boom_ was the result. "Ah, and I might have said wear black, if I'd ha' thought of it," said the old man, examining the girl from top to toe. "Then I hadn't got any black, and if I had I would not have worn it, because it makes one look so ugly," said the girl, giving her head another toss. "Now do tell me where to go. I want to see well. Can't you put me up in that loft place over the vestry?" "What! where you could see down into squire's pew?" said the old man, giving another tug at the rope. "Yes, gran'fa; it's a nice snug place, where no one could see me." "Oh, yes, they could," said the old man, chuckling. "Anybody looked up from the squire's pew he could see your bonny face." "I'm sure I didn't know," said the girl; "and you're very fond of calling it a bonny face all at once. You said one day I was an ugly little witch." "Did I?" said the old man, whose voice was nearly drowned by the boom he produced from the bell. "I s'pose I was cross that day. But, Dally, why didn't you come and ask your old grandfather for some money to buy black?" "Because he'd have called me an idle hussy, and told me to go about my business," said the girl pertly. "No, he wouldn't, my dear," said the old man, tugging at the rope. "He'd have given you enough to buy a new silk dress, and a bonnet and feather--black 'uns, so that you might have come to the berrin' looking as well as the best of 'em." "Would you, gran'fa?" cried the girl, with her eyes sparkling.