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If this, or something like this, is true, then all these medications are, prima facie, injurious. In the game of Life-or-Death, Rouge et Noir, as played between the Doctor and the Sexton, this five per cent., this certain small injury entering into the chances is clearly the sexton's perquisite for keeping the green table, over which the game is played, and where he hoards up his gains.
Bennoch took me to Cripplegate, and, entering the door of a house, which proved to be a sexton's residence, we passed by a side entrance into the church-porch of St. Giles, of which the sexton's house seems to be an indivisible contiguity. This is a very ancient church, that escaped the great fire of London.
And then this tomb, too, she said, hastening on to her second point to elude any chance of interruption, 'of them two poor young lads. I say poor, and yet when I recollect myself, I was at tea with Mrs. Simpkins, the sexton's wife, before you come, Doctor and Miss Mary, and that's a family has been in the place, what?
The Sexton's ruddy brown face took on the deepest wrinkles that it was capable of producing, and divided itself into several pensive sections of a square, roundish or angular shape. He said: "Where is the Baumann estate? It was split up and went to pieces in the times of disturbance. Is the Sexton's office to be the loser on that account? It should not be so!
By and by certain familiar whoops and hullohs announced that the enemy was coming. "They hevn't coomed yet, hev they?" we heard the sexton's son say, as he peeped over at our pond. "Noa," was the reply. "It's not gone one yet." "It's gone one by t' church. I yeard it as we was coming up t' lane." "T' church clock's always hafe-an-hour fasst, thee knows." "It isn't!" "It is."
It was very like Rudolph Musgrave that even now, for all the glow of the future's bright allure, his heart should hark back to the past and its absurd dear memories, with wistfulness. And he found it, as many others have done, but cheerless sexton's work, this digging up of boyish recollections.
Bob was mentally quite of the same opinion; but, though his mouth watered, he remembered his promise, and shaking his head with incorruptible resolution, walked on. The stranger, pipe in mouth, rose from his bench, the bottle in one hand, and the glass in the other, and followed at the sexton's heels, his dusky horse keeping close in his wake.
"You have studied natural science and much else, still I wonder if any of you can tell me what the stones in Motala Stream are?" Not one of the sexton's pupils raised a hand, but on the other side hand after hand shot up. Yet, in the sexton's division sat Olof Oleson he who knew he had the best head in the parish, and Där Nol, of good old peasant stock. But they could not answer.
The sexton's society, in fact, gradually became the solace of his existence, and he seemed to lose his constitutional melancholy in the fascination of his sly jokes and marvellous stories. This intimacy did not redound to the prosperity or reputation of the convivial allies.
Jim Greatorex stood behind her and so that his face was turned slantwise toward Rowcliffe. Alice's face was in pure profile. Her head was tilted slightly backward, as if the music lifted it. Rowcliffe moved softly to the sexton's bench in the left hand corner. Sitting there he could see her better and ran less risk of being seen.
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