'Do you know about tribulation?' she asked.
'Me know of it! Ay, surely, when I've buried six sons and daughters, and last of all my woife, and dug all their graves mysel', save two, which were Jack in Mericky, which died of yellow fever, and only a packet of letters sent back to us belonging to him, and in them there were a bit o' his mother's grey hair which he had cut off that playful afore he went away; and then there were Rob, that were killed down a coal mine, and we could never get at his body, and he left a widder and three childer, and she were married to one o' his chums afore a twelvemonth past—the unfeeling hussy; but I've washed my hands of the lot. Ay, I've been through troubles and tribbylation, which is our lot in this world, but I've had a many more than most folks.'
'Then you must be quite ready to die?' said Betty, looking at him thoughtfully.
The old man looked at her; then rubbed his head in a puzzled way.
'I'm no so sure about that, little lassie; I've seen scores brought into this churchyard and placed in my graves, but there are toimes when I think o' seeing mysel' let down into a strange grave, and one not cut half so foine as mine, for I'm up to my trade, and none could do it better, and I'm thinkin' if that day will wait till I'm ready for it; well—'twill be a good way off yet!'
Betty knitted her brows in perplexity.
'If you've been through tribulation, you must be very nearly ready for heaven—the Bible says so.'
'Ay, do it? Let's hear, missy; for sure I've had my lot o' woe, and the Lord do be marciful!'
For a second time that afternoon Betty repeated the text that was so occupying her mind and thoughts. The old man listened attentively.
'You see,' said Betty, leaning against an old yew tree and hugging Prince close to her, 'it's the first part that's so difficult to me, but it must be quite easy for you. The end of it fits us all, but the tribulation doesn't fit me.'