d two together--what with them bones
coming up so regular, and that bit o' coffin furniture right on the top
on 'em--I reckon we've struck 'im much as he was put down in '62."

"Are none of his relatives living?" I asked.

"Why, yes, of course they're living. Didn't I tell yer he was
grandfather to Sam Wiggin--that's 'im as farms the Leasowes at t'other
end of the village. What'll he say?--why, nothing o' course. Them as
sees nothing, says nothing."

"But," I said, "if Sam comes to church next Sunday he'll see his
grandfather's bones sticking out all over this grave."

"'Ow's 'e to know they're his grandfather's? There's no name on 'em,"
said the sexton.

"But surely he will remember that his grandfather was buried in this
spot."

"Not 'im! 'E don't bother 'is 'ead about grandfathers. Sam Wiggin!
Doesn't know 'e ever had a grandfather. Somebody else might take it up?
Not in this parish. Besides, we've all got used to it. Folks here is all
mixed up wi' one another while they're living, so they don't mind
gettin' a bit mixeder when they're dead."

"But is the parson used to it along with the rest of you?"

"Well, yer see, I allus clears up before he comes to bury--ribs and
shins and big 'un's as won't break up. Skulls breaks up easy; you just
catches them a snope with yer spade, and they splits up down the
joinin'. Week afore last I dug up two beauties under that yew; anybody
might a' kep' 'em for a museum. I've knowed them as would ha' done it,
and sold 'em for eighteenpence apiece. But I couldn't bring my mind to
it."

"So you just broke them up, I suppose?"

"No, I didn't. One on 'em belonged to a man as I once knowed; leastways
I remember him as a young chap. He was underkeeper at the Hall. The
young woman he wanted to marry wouldn't 'ave 'im, so he shot hisself wi'
a rook gun. I knowed it was 'im by the 'ole in 'is 'ead, no bigger nor a
pea. Just think o' that! No bigger nor a big pea, I tell yer, and as
round as if it had been done wi' a punch. I told my missis about it when
I went 'ome to my tea. I says, 'Do yer remember 'Arry Pole, the young
keeper in the old lord's time, what shot hisself over that affair wi'
Polly Towers?' 'Remember 'im?' she says. 'Why, I used to go out walking
wi' 'im myself afore he took up wi' Polly.' 'I thought you did,' I says;
'well, there's 'is skull. See that little 'ole in it, clean as if it had
been cut wi' a punch? He never shot hisself, not 'e!' Why, bless yer
heart, do