Explore "The Secret in the Hill" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The following day my uncle was near himself again, and we left the Flask inn and took lodging with the widow Puddephatt. The Playstow was a little green, about half-way down the village, where the villagers reared their may-pole on May-day, and built their fires on Midsummer's Eve, and caroused in September on the harvest-largesse won from passers-by. Round about, in a little _square_, were cottages, detached and exclusive, the _élite_ of Dunberry; and to one side was the church -- but now in process of completion -- in whose porch the daring would seat themselves on St. Mark's eve to see, at midnight, the wraiths of the year's pre-doomed come and knock at the door. Mr. Sant had, however, limited that custom, as well as some others less reputable; and the fact that he was able to do so spoke volumes for his persuasiveness.
At the present time the villagers, under his stimulus, were transferring, stone by stone, to the long unfinished fabric and its adjoining school-house, the less sacred parts of the ruined foundation on the hill.