n't consistently
refuse my consent."

Now for some reason or other, the vicar at this point seemed to have an
idea that he had prevaricated; and as an honest vicar, it was a thing he
determined not to do. He corrected himself, blushing as he did so,
though why he should blush was not known to Reuben.

"Understand me rightly," he said: "the church-warden proposed it to me,
but I had thought myself of getting--Miss Day to play."

"Which churchwarden might that be who proposed her, sir?--excusing my
common way." The tranter intimated by his tone that, so far from being
inquisitive, he did not even wish to ask a single question.

"Mr. Shiner, I believe."

"Clk, my sonny!--beg your pardon, sir, that's only a form of words of
mine, and slipped out accidental--he nourishes enmity against us for some
reason or another; perhaps because we played rather hard upon en
Christmas night. Anyhow 'tis certain sure that Mr. Shiner's real love
for music of a particular kind isn't his reason. He've no more ear than
that chair. But let that be."

"I don't think you should conclude that, because Mr. Shiner wants a
different music, he has any ill-feeling for you. I myself, I must own,
prefer organ-music to any other. I consider it most proper, and feel
justified in endeavouring to introduce it; but then, although other music
is better, I don't say yours is not good."

"Well then, Mr. Mayble, since death's to be, we'll die like men any day
you name (excusing my common way)."

Mr. Maybold bowed his head.

"All we thought was, that for us old ancient singers to be choked off
quiet at no time in particular, as now, in the Sundays after Easter,
would seem rather mean in the eyes of other parishes, sir. But if we
fell glorious with a bit of a flourish at Christmas, we should have a
respectable end, and not dwindle away at some nameless paltry
second-Sunday-after or Sunday-next-before something, that's got no name
of his own."

"Yes, yes, that's reasonable; I own it's reasonable."

"You see, Mr. Mayble, we've got--do I keep you inconvenient long, sir?"

"No, no."

"We've got our feelings--father there especially."

The tranter, in his earnestness, had advanced his person to within six
inches of the vicar's.

"Certainly, certainly!" said Mr. Maybold, retreating a little for
convenience of seeing. "You are all enthusiastic on the subject, and I
am all the more gratified to find you so. A Laodicean lukewarmness is
worse th