In the pauses of conversation there could be heard through the floor overhead a little world of undertones and creaks from the halting clockwork, which never spread further than the tower they were born in, and raised in the more meditative minds a fancy that here lay the direct pathway of Time.
Having done eating and drinking, they again tuned the instruments, and once more the party emerged into the night air.
"Where's Dick ?" said old Dewy.
Every man looked round upon every other man, as if Dick might have been transmuted into one or the other; and then they said they didn't know.
"Well now, that's what I call very nasty of Master Dicky, that I do," said Michael Mail.
"He've clinked off home-along, depend upon't," another suggested, though not quite believing that he had.
"Dick!" exclaimed the tranter, and his voice rolled sonorously forth among the yews.
He suspended his muscles rigid as stone whilst listening for an answer, and finding he listened in vain, turned to the assemblage.
"The treble man too! Now if he'd been a tenor or counter chap, we might ha' contrived the rest o't without en, you see.

But for a quire to lose the treble, why, my sonnies, you may so well lose your.

.

.

" The tranter paused, unable to mention an image vast enough for the occasion.
"Your head at once," suggested Mr.Penny.
The tranter moved a pace, as if it were puerile of people to complete sentences when there were more pressing things to be done.
"Was ever heard such a thing as a young man leaving his work half done and turning tail like this!" "Never," replied Bowman, in a tone signifying that he was the last man in the world to wish to withhold the formal finish required of him.
"I hope no fatal tragedy has overtook the lad!" said his grandfather.
"O no," replied tranter Dewy placidly.