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174
UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

to be, we'll die like men any day you names, (excusing my common way).'

Mr. Maybold bowed his head.

'All we thought was, that for us old ancient singers to be finished off quietly at no time in particular, as now, in the Sundays after Easter, would seem rather mean in the eyes of the other parishes, sir. But if we fell glorious with a bit of 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 inconveniently long, sir?'

'No, no.'

'We've got our feelings—father there especially, Mr. Mayble.'

The tranter, in his eagerness to explain,

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