in' 'pon that ghastly godson o' mine and how much better I
stomach ye. I promise nothing, mind: but if you'll keep quiet under
that seat, I'll think it over."

Certainly, having made my confession, I felt easier in mind as I lay
huddled under the seat, though it seemed to me that Mr. Jope took
matters lightly. For the squadron ahead had resumed the singing of
_Tom Bowling_ and he sat humming a bar or two here and there with
evident pleasure, and paused only to bow out of window and
acknowledge the cheers of the passers-by.

At the end of five minutes, however, he spoke aloud again.

"The first thing," he announced, "is to stay where you are.
Let me think, now--Who seen you? There's the parson: he's gone.
And there's the jarvey: he's drunk as a lord. Anyone else?"

"There was one of the young ladies that looked out of window."

"True: then 'tis too risky. When the company gets out, you'll have
to get out. Let the jarvey see you do it: the rest don't matter.
You can pretend to walk with us a little way, then slip back and
under the seat again--takin' care that this time the jarvey _don't_
see you. That's easy enough, eh?"

I assured him I could manage it.

"Then leave the rest to me, and bide still. I got to think of Bill,
now; and more by token here's the graveyard gate!"

He thrust the door open and motioned me to tumble out ahead of him.
As the rest of the funeral guests alighted, he worked me very
skilfully before him into the driver's view, having taken care to set
the coach door wide on the off side.

"It's understood that you wait, all o' ye?" said Mr. Jope to the
driver.

The man lifted a lazy eye. "Take your time," he said: "don't mind
me. I hope "--he stiffened himself suddenly--"I knows a gentleman
when I sees one."

Mr. Jope turned away and from that moment ignored my existence.
The coffin was unlashed and lowered from the leading coach; the
clergyman at the gate began to recite the sacred office, and the
funeral train, reduced to decorum by his voice, followed him as he
turned, and trooped along the path towards the mortuary chapel.
I moved with the crowd to its porch, drew aside to make way for a
lady in rouge and sprigged muslin, and slipped behind the chapel
wall. The far end of it hid me from the view of the coaches, and
from it a pretty direct path led to a gap in the hedge, and a stile.
Reaching and crossing this, I found myself in a by-lane leading back
into the high road. Th