But Jason was occupied in picking up the bits of empty snail-shell left by the thrush.

“What do they do where there aren’t any stones to break ’em on?” commented the Squire as he watched him.

Miss Gault swept them both with her formidable gaze.

“Throw those things away, Mr. Otter, please. When the life’s gone that’s the end.”

“Not always,” murmured the Squire. “Not always, ha? What?”

Miss Gault lifted her eyebrows, and her distorted upper-lip twitched. “For the dead, it’s the end,” she repeated sternly; “but it’s better to be dead in death than dead in life.”

“I think I’d better go and see if my mother wants me,” murmured Jason uneasily.