'And if he's as desperate as 'a seemed, we shall never see him here in England again.' 'It is an awkward case,' said the rector.
Ezra talked it over with the choir; one of whom suggested that the stone might be erected at the crossroads.

This was regarded as impracticable.
Another said that it might be set up in the churchyard without removing the body; but this was seen to be dishonest.

So nothing was done.
The headstone remained in Ezra's outhouse till, growing tired of seeing it there, he put it away among the bushes at the bottom of his garden.
The subject was sometimes revived among them, but it always ended with: 'Considering how 'a was buried, we can hardly make a job o't.' There was always the consciousness that Luke would never come back, an impression strengthened by the disasters which were rumoured to have befallen the army in Spain.

This tended to make their inertness permanent.

The headstone grew green as it lay on its back under Ezra's bushes; then a tree by the river was blown down, and, falling across the stone, cracked it in three pieces.