“About Grizel’s father, for one.  She doesna know his name, but the Painted Lady wore a locket wi’ a picture of him on her breast, and it’s buried wi’ her, and Grizel told God to look at it so as to know him.  She thinks her mother will be damned for having her, and that it winna be fair unless God damns her father too.”

“Go on,” said Mr. Dishart.

“There was three Thrums men—­I think they were gentlemen—­” Tommy continued, almost blithely, “that used to visit the Painted Lady in the night time afore she took ill.  They wanted Grizel to promise no to tell about their going to Double Dykes, and she promised because she was ower innocent to know what they went for—­but their names are in the letter.”

A movement in the crowd was checked by the minister’s uplifted arm.  “Go on,” he cried.

“She wouldna tell me who they were, because it would have been breaking her promise,” said Tommy, “but”—­he looked around him inquisitively—­“but they’re here at the funeral.”

The mourners were looking sideways at each other, some breathing hard, but none dared to speak before the minister.  He stood for a long time in doubt, but at last he signed to John to proceed with the filling in of the grave.  Contrary to custom all remained.  Not until the grave was again level with the sward did Mr. Dishart speak, and then it was with a gesture that appalled his hearers.  “This grave,” he said, raising his arm, “is locked till the day of judgment.”

Leaving him standing there, a threatening figure, they broke into groups and dispersed, walking slowly at first, and then fast, to tell their wives.

CHAPTER XXXII

AN ELOPEMENT

The solitary child remained at Double Dykes, awaiting the arrival of her father, for the Painted Lady’s manner of leaving the world had made such a stir that the neighbors said he must have heard of it, even though he were in London, and if he had the heart of a stone he could not desert his bairn.  They argued thus among themselves, less as people who were sure of it than to escape the perplexing question, what to do with Grizel if the man never claimed her? and before her they spoke of his coming as a certainty, because it would be so obviously the best thing for her.  In the meantime they overwhelmed her with offers of everything she could need, which was kindly but not essential, for after the funeral expenses had been paid (Grizel insisted on paying them herself) she had still several gold pieces, found in her mamma’s beautiful tortoise-shell purse, and there were nearly twenty pounds in the bank.