They were pulling something out from the porch.
He heard the noise of hammering, and Squire Moyle, at the back of the crowd, was shouting at the top of his voice: "The church is yours, is it?
I'll see about that! Pitch out the furnitcher, my billies--_that's_ mine, anyway!" Still the hammers sounded within the church.
"Don't believe in sudden convarsion, don't 'ee?
I reckon you will when you look round your church.

Bishop coming to consecrate it, is he?
Consecrate _my_ furnitcher?
I'll see you and your bishop to blazes first!" A heap of shattered timber came flying through the porch.
"_Your_ church, hey?
_Your_ church ?" The crowd fell back and Mr.Raymond stood in the doorway, between Bill Udy and Jim the Huntsman.

Bill Udy held a brazen ewer and paten, and Jim a hammer; and Mr.Raymond had a hand on one shoulder of each.
For a moment there was silence.

As Taffy came running through the lych-gate a man who had been sitting on a flat tombstone and watching, stood up and touched his arm.

It was Jacky Pascoe, the Bryanite.
"Best go back," he said, "'tis a wisht poor job of it." Taffy halted for a moment.