y awake. So on went the old comedy,
as by law established; the congregation, Whig and Tory, not able to hear
one word in ten, but taking their cues from Tommy Size, the parish clerk.

The first sign of something amiss came about midway in the hymn before the
sermon, with old Squire Martin's setting down his book and dropping into
his seat very sudden. Few noticed it, the pew being a tall one; but the
musicianers overlooking it from the gallery saw him crossing his hands
over his waistcoat, which caused one or two to play their notes false; and
Nance Julian in the pew behind heard him groan: "I can't sit it out!
Not for a hundred pounds can I sit it out!"

By this time Parson Polsue, with his sermon tucked under his arm, was
tottering up the pulpit stairs, and Churchwarden Hancock standing
underneath, as usual, to watch him arrive safe or to break his fall if he
tumbled. And just as he reached the top and caught hold of the desk
cushion to stay himself, Lord William dropped out of view in the face of
the congregation, and the hymn--music and singing together--ciphered out
like an organ with its bellows slit.

The next moment open flew the door of the Tregoose pew, and out poured
Lord William and Squire Martin with judgment on their faces, making a
bee-line for the fresh air; and after them Major Dyngwall with a look of
concern; and after him young Bob Martin, that had only waited to pick up
the others' hats.

Well, you can't run a spark through a barrel of gunpowder. Like wildfire
it flew about the church that the Duke's party and the Parson had
quarrelled, and this was a public protest. Whig and Tory settled that
with one scrape of the feet, and Major Dyngwall turned in the porch to
find the whole crowd at his heels.

"My good people," says he, "pray don't alarm yourselves! I--I don't quite
know what's the matter: a sudden indisposition--nothing serious.
Do, please, go back!"

"Go back? Not a bit of it! You're quite right, sir--disgrace to a
Christian country--high time for a public example--stand to it, sir, and
the Bishop will have to interfere. Three cheers for the Red and Orange!
Three cheers for Religion and no Abuses! Three cheers for Lord William
and Major Dyngwall! Hip-hip-hooray!" Do what the Major might, the crowd
swept him and the poor sufferers through the churchyard and across the
street, and hung cheering around the "George and Dragon," while he dosed
the pair inside with hot brandy-and-w