“A good many o’ my people be come all at once, you see, sir,” he returned. “I shall have enough ado to make ‘em all comfortable like.” “But you must get help, you know; you can never make them all comfortable yourself alone.” “We’ll see what I can do,” he returned. “I ben’t a bit willin’ to let no one do my work for me, I do assure you, sir.” “How many are there wanting your services?” I asked. “There be fifteen of them now, and there be more, I don’t doubt, on the way.” “But you won’t think of making separate graves for them all,” I said. “They died together: let them lie together.” The old man set down his tools, and looked me in the face with indignation. The face was so honest and old, that, without feeling I had deserved it, I yet felt the rebuke. “How would you like, sir,” he said, at length, “to be put in the same bed with a lot of people you didn’t know nothing about?” I knew the old man’s way, and that any argument which denied the premiss of his peculiar fancy was worse than thrown away upon him. I therefore ventured no farther than to say that I had heard death was a leveller. “That be very true; and, mayhap, they mightn’t think of it after they’d been down awhile--six weeks, mayhap, or so. But anyhow, it can’t be comfortable for ‘em, poor things. One on ‘em be a baby: I daresay he’d rather lie with his mother. The doctor he say one o’ the women be a mother. I don’t know,” he went on reflectively, “whether she be the baby’s own mother, but I daresay neither o’ them ‘ll mind it if I take it for granted, and lay ‘em down together. So that’s one bed less.” One thing was clear, that the old man could not dig fourteen graves within the needful time. But I would not interfere with his office in the church, having no reason to doubt that he would perform its duties to perfection. He shouldered his tools again and walked out. I descended the stair, thinking to see Joe; but there was no one there but the old woman. “Where are Joe and Agnes?” I asked. “You see, sir, Joe had promised a little job of work to be ready to-day, and so he couldn’t stop. He did say Agnes needn’t go with him; but she thought she couldn’t part with him so soon, you see, sir.” “She had received him from the dead--raised to life again,” I said; “it was most natural. But what a fine fellow Joe is; nothing will make him neglect his work!” “I tried to get him to stop, sir, saying he had done quite enough last night for all next day; but he told me it was his business to get the tire put on Farmer Wheatstone’s cart-wheel to-day just as much as it was his business to go in the life-boat yesterday. So he would go, and Aggy wouldn’t stay behind.” “Fine fellow, Joe!” I said, and took my leave. As I drew near the village, I heard the sound of hammering and sawing, and apparently everything at once in the way of joinery; they were making the coffins in the joiners’ shops, of which there were two in the place.