"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.

"It's exceedingly careless—upon my word. Come back and nail it up firmer," cried he.

But Saul drove off.

The young station-master went back to the store-room. He looked at the box for a moment, with annoyance still in his mind. The air that he had would have sat well upon a man with servants under him, but was somewhat futile in the keeper of a desolate railway-station. He had not been able to command the man, and he certainly could not command the coffin to nail itself more firmly together. After all, his tea waited. Somewhat. . . Read More