Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. She turned to Martha as the lad exited by the back door, but her nurse forestalled anything she might have said. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. The image did not move. Jackson: "ha! ha!" "Not in the least, Ma'am," echoed Mr. "The Beachcombers.
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