alked it over with the choir; one of whom suggested that the stone
might be erected at the crossroads. This was regarded as impracticable.
Another said that it might be set up in the churchyard without removing
the body; but this was seen to be dishonest. So nothing was done.

The headstone remained in Ezra's outhouse till, growing tired of seeing
it there, he put it away among the bushes at the bottom of his garden.
The subject was sometimes revived among them, but it always ended with:
'Considering how 'a was buried, we can hardly make a job o't.'

There was always the consciousness that Luke would never come back, an
impression strengthened by the disasters which were rumoured to have
befallen the army in Spain. This tended to make their inertness
permanent. The headstone grew green as it lay on its back under Ezra's
bushes; then a tree by the river was blown down, and, falling across the
stone, cracked it in three pieces. Ultimately the pieces became buried
in the leaves and mould.

Luke had not been born a Chalk-Newton man, and he had no relations left
in Sidlinch, so that no tidings of him reached either village throughout
the war. But after Waterloo and the fall of Napoleon there arrived at
Sidlinch one day an English sergeant-major covered with stripes and, as
it turned out, rich in glory. Foreign service had so totally changed
Luke Holway that it was not until he told his name that the inhabitants
recognized him as the sergeant's only son.

He had served with unswerving effectiveness through the Peninsular
campaigns under Wellington; had fought at Busaco, Fuentes d'Onore, Ciudad
Rodrigo, Badajoz, Salamanca, Vittoria, Quatre Bras, and Waterloo; and had
now returned to enjoy a more than earned pension and repose in his native
district.

He hardly stayed in Sidlinch longer than to take a meal on his arrival.
The same evening he started on foot over the hill to Chalk-Newton,
passing the hand-post, and saying as he glanced at the spot, 'Thank God:
he's not there!' Nightfall was approaching when he reached the latter
village; but he made straight for the churchyard. On his entering it
there remained light enough to discern the headstones by, and these he
narrowly scanned. But though he searched the front part by the road, and
the back part by the river, what he sought he could not find--the grave
of Sergeant Holway, and a memorial bearing the inscription: 'I AM NOT
WORTHY TO BE CALLED THY SON.'

He le