eading it on his knees, he took his whistle again and blew,
reading his music from the blank pages, and piping a strain he had
never dreamed of. For he whistled of Births and Marriages.

O, happy Registrar! O, happy, happy Registrar! You will never get into
those elastic-sides again. Your feet swell as they tap the swelling
earth, and at each tap the flowers push, the sap climbs, the speck of
life moves in the hedge-sparrow's egg; while, far away on the downs,
with each tap, the yellow van takes bride and groom a foot nearer
felicity. It is hard work in worsted socks, for you smite with the
vehemence of Pan, and Pan had a hoof of horn.

* * * * *

The Registrar's mother lived in the fishing-village, two miles down
the coombe. Her cottage leant back against the cliff so closely, that
the boys, as they followed the path above, could toss tabs of turf
down her chimney: and this was her chief annoyance.

Now, it was close on the dinner-hour, and she stood in her kitchen
beside a pot of stew that simmered over the wreck-wood fire.

Suddenly a great lump of earth and grass came bouncing down the
chimney, striking from side to side, and soused into the pot,
scattering the hot stew over the hearth-stone and splashing her from
head to foot.

Quick as thought, she caught up a besom and rushed out around the
corner of the cottage.

"You stinking young adders!" she began.

A big man stood on the slope above her.

"Mother, cuff my head, that's a dear. I couldn' help doin' it."

It was the elderly Registrar. His hat, collar, tie, and waistcoat were
awry; his boots were slung on the walking-stick over his shoulder;
stuck in his mouth and lit was a twist of root-fibre, such as country
boys use for lack of cigars, and he himself had used, forty years
before.

The old woman turned to an ash-colour, leant on her besom, and gasped.

"William Henry!"

"I'm not drunk, mother: been a Band of Hope these dozen years." He
stepped down the slope to her and bent his head low. "Box my ears,
mother, quick! You used to have a wonderful gift o' cuffin'."

"William Henry, I'm bound to do it or die."

"Then be quick about it."

Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she caught him a feeble cuff, and next
instant held him close to her old breast. The Registrar disengaged
himself after a minute, brushed his eyes, straightened his hat, picked
up the besom, and offered her his arm. They passed into the cottage
toget