being deepened. Then a coolie, taking the earth in baskets as it was
thrown up, jumped over the grave.

'That's queer,' said the Tertium Quid. 'Where's my ulster?'

'What's queer?' said the Man's Wife.

'I have got a chill down my back just as if a goose had walked over
my grave.'

'Why do you look at the thing, then?' said the Man's Wife. 'Let us
go.'

The Tertium Quid stood at the head of the grave, and stared
without answering for a space. Then he said, dropping a pebble
down, 'It is nasty and cold: horribly cold. I don't think I shall come
to the Cemetery any more. I don't think grave-digging is cheerful.'

The two talked and agreed that the Cemetery was depressing. They
also arranged for a ride next day out from the Cemetery through
the Mashobra Tunnel up to Fagoo and back, because all the world
was going to a garden-party at Viceregal Lodge, and all the people
of Mashobra would go too.

Coming up the Cemetery road, the Tertium Quid's horse tried to
bolt uphill, being tired with standing so long, and managed to
strain a back sinew.

'I shall have to take the mare to-morrow,' said the Tertium Quid,
'and she will stand nothing heavier than a snaffle.'