The door opened, and he entered, to find three men. One was busy about a strange task; the other two sat on empty cider-barrels and watched him. "It's getting out," said Weekes. "One of you fools--or else some of the singing boys--have been chattering. 'Tis you, I believe, William, for my father heard it down to Little Lydford from that old maid you'm so fond of." William Churchward looked up from his work on the ground. He dropped a bundle of long straw and assured Weekes that he must be mistaken. "I only just said, in a vague way, that one of them famous funerals of the living was on hand, and advised her to be up at Taverner's field on a night I'd let her know." Jacob Taverner, another of the company, also spoke. "All the same, we must let the people hear about it. We want all Lydford there on the night, else the fun's spoiled. The more the merrier, surely. It must be blazed abroad." "In reason. But there's some won't hold with it, and will try to stop it at the last moment." "They can't," declared old Huggins. "Take care of your pipe, Jacob, or else you'll set William's straw alight and spoil all. They can't stop you, Jarratt, because you'll be 'pon private land. 'Tis Jacob's field, and nobody in the kingdom--not the Queen of England's self--have the power to say what Jacob shall not do on his own ground. The constable may be allowed in to keep the peace, and that's all." "When will you have the dolls done, William?" asked Mr. Taverner. Young Churchward desisted from his labour, rose to his feet, and with an artist's eye regarded two headless dummies upon which he was engaged. They were of full human proportions and represented a male and female. The man's image showed a long and thin figure. It wore brown leggings, riding breeches, and a Norfolk jacket. Spurs were attached to its boots, and from its hand, modelled in putty and painted, there hung a hunting-stock. "What fashioned tie did the man use to wear?" inquired William. "Red as often as not," answered Weekes. "I've nearly done him. The legs loll out too much yet, but when young Prowse have knocked up the coffin, we'll fit him in all natural as life." Then he pointed to the other puppet. "That's the very daps of _her_ round shape," whispered 'the Infant' aside to Weekes, and Jarratt nodded. "It is," he admitted. Then he remembered what his mother had said and turned away with a qualm. Anon he fortified his spirit and sneered at himself. "'Tis a good joke, sure enough. Won't hurt nobody really. But 'twill make a certain psalm-singing fool of a husband come down a peg or two. And well the man deserves it." For his own comfort Weekes made this remark. "How if the man breaks your head?" asked Taverner. "Two can play at that game." "When be us to know the parties?" piped Mr. Huggins. "I'm all on fire to hear who 'tis."