wanted.

"Want to go in th' oul church after dark!" he said. "You must be
mazed."

"Why?"

"Why! You cudden git more'n two people in the parish to do it. Me and
the passen be the only two that be'ant afraid."

"But I don't want you to go with me," I said. "I simply want you to
lend me the keys, and I'll bring them back to you again."

"And you we'ant want me to go in the churchyard nuther?"

"No."

"I must'n do it," he said. "The passen 'ud give me the sack straight
off ef 'ee was to knaw it."

"No one need know," I said.

For a long time he held out. I could see that he would willingly have
let me enter the church at daylight, and would himself have gone with
me; but at night he was afraid to do so, and was also afraid to let me
have the keys.

"I ca'ant 'ford to lose my place," he said; "not that the burryin' es
wuth much. I ain't a berried a livin' soul for a long time, so times
es bad in that way; but I git a goodish bit for clainin' the church."

"How much do you get a year?"

"I make so much as ten shillen a week oal the year round," he said. "I
do'ant knaw how much that es a year."

I took fifteen guineas from my pocket, and put them before him.

"There is more money than you would get in a whole year," I said. "If
I don't bring back the keys in safety, you'll have that money to take
you where you like to go, and if I bring back the keys you shall have
five of them for your trouble in lending them to me."

"You'm sure you won't do no harm."

"Perfectly."

"Then take 'em," and going to a little recess in the room he took the
keys from a nail and gave them to me.

"I expect you to be waiting for me here when I come back," I said.

"Oa, never fear, I sha'ant steer out of the 'ouse," was his reply.

I took a lantern, in which the old man had placed a candle, and
prepared to start.

"You'm sure you beant goin' to do nothin' wrong," he said.

"Perfectly," I replied. "You will not regret it for an instant."

He looked at me again, then, as if they were an enormous fortune, at
the guineas that lay on the table, and seemed reconciled.

"Tha's the kay of the church," he said, pointing to the biggest in the
bunch, "the churchyard gates is allays left unlocked. And I'll be
waitin for 'ee when you come back. How long shall 'ee be?"

"I don't know; perhaps an hour," and with a beating heart I went away
towards the church. It was a great, grey, gloomy pile, the four
steeples on the