Part 8 (1/2)
”What did he die of?” asked the young man.
”He fell down, and he seemed for some days as if he'd get over it; then he was took sudden. We put his feet into a hot pot of water and made him drink lye.”
”Lye?”
”Ash water--but we gave it him weak.”
”Oh.”
”But--he died.”
”Well, that was sad. Does he leave a wife and family?”
”No,” said Saul briefly. ”But how much must I pay to have the cars take it the rest of the way?”
Trenholme stepped into his room and lit his lamp that he might better examine his list of rates. Saul came inside to warm himself at the stove. The lamp in that little room was the one spot of yellow light in the whole world that lay in sight, yet outside it was not yet dark, only dull and bitterly cold.
Trenholme stood near the lamp, reading fine print upon a large card. The railway was only just opened and its tariff incomplete as yet. He found no particular provision made for the carriage of coffins. It took him some minutes to consider under what cla.s.s of freight to reckon this, but he decided not to weigh it. Saul looked at the room, the ham and tea, and at Trenholme, with quiet curiosity in his beady eyes. Outside, the oxen hung their heads and dozed again.
”You see,” said Saul, ”I'll get there myself with the potash to-morrow night; then I can arrange with the minister.”
He had so much difficulty in producing the requisite number of coins for the carriage that it was evident the potash could not be sent by train too; but Trenholme was familiar now with the mode of life that could give time of man and beast so easily, and find such difficulty in producing a little money of far less value. He did remark that, as the cart was to complete the journey, the coffin might as well travel the second day as it had done the first; but, Saul showed reluctance to hear this expostulation, and certainly it was not the station-master's business to insist. The whole discussion did not take long. Saul was evidently in a haste not usual to such as he, and Trenholme felt a natural desire to sit down to his tea, the cooking of which filled the place with grateful perfume. Saul's haste showed itself more in nervous demeanour than in capacity to get through the interview quickly. Even when the money was paid, he loitered awkwardly. Trenholme went into his store-room, and threw open its double doors to the outside air.
”Help me in with it, will you?”
It was the pleasant authority of his tone that roused the other to alacrity. They shouldered the coffin between them. The store-room was fairly large and contained little. Trenholme placed the coffin reverently by itself in an empty corner. He brought a pot of black paint and a brush, and printed on it the necessary address. Then he thought a moment, and added in another place the inscription--”Box containing coffin--to be handled with care.”
It is to be remarked how dependent we are for the simplest actions on the teaching we have had. Never having received the smallest instruction as to how to deal with such a charge, it cost him effort of thought and some courage to put on this inscription. Saul watched, divided between curious interest and his desire to be away.
”You've got another coffin inside this case, of course?” said the station-master, struck with a sudden doubt.
To him, polished wood and silver plating seemed such a natural accessory of death that he had, without thought, always a.s.sociated the one idea with the other.
”No, that's all there is. We made it too large by mistake, but we put a bed quilt in for stuffing.”
”But, my man, it isn't very well put together; the lid isn't tight.”
”No--neither it is.” Saul had already sidled to the door.
Trenholme felt it with his thumb and fingers.
”It's perfectly loose,” he cried. ”It's only got a few nails in the lid.
You ought to have put in screws, you know.”
”Yes, but we hadn't got any; we had used the last screws we had for the hinge of a door. I'm going to buy some to put in at St. Hennon's.
Good-day.”
As they spoke, Saul had been going to his cart, and Trenholme following, with authoritative displeasure in his mien.