there’s naught beneath. And yet, a coffin with a body in it rings pretty much the same, Carpenter. Hast thou ever helped carry a bier, and heard the coffin knock against the churchyard gate, going in?

“Faith, sir, I’ve — — ”

“Faith?

What’s that?”

“Why, faith, sir, it’s only a sort of exclamation-like — that’s all, sir.”

“Um, um; go on.”

“I was about to say, sir, that — — ”

“Art thou a silk-worm? Dost thou spin thy own shroud out of thyself? Look at thy bosom! Despatch! And get these traps out of sight.”