Saul watched, divided between curious interest and his desire to be away.
"You've got another coffin inside this case, of course ?" said the station-master, struck with a sudden doubt.
To him, polished wood and silver plating seemed such a natural accessory of death that he had, without thought, always associated the one idea with the other.
"No, that's all there is.

We made it too large by mistake, but we put a bed quilt in for stuffing." "But, my man, it isn't very well put together; the lid isn't tight." "No--neither it is." Saul had already sidled to the door.
Trenholme felt it with his thumb and fingers.
"It's perfectly loose," he cried.

"It's only got a few nails in the lid.
You ought to have put in screws, you know." "Yes, but we hadn't got any; we had used the last screws we had for the hinge of a door.

I'm going to buy some to put in at St.Hennon's.
Good-day." As they spoke, Saul had been going to his cart, and Trenholme following, with authoritative displeasure in his mien.
"It's exceedingly careless--upon my word.

Come back and nail it up firmer," cried he.
But Saul drove off.
The young station-master went back to the store-room.