“Bring him back with you; tell him he’ll find good wine here and jolly cheer,” said the Captain.  And Mr. Dancox went out, swinging his table-napkin in his hand.

In crossing the hall he met Katherine, exchanged a hasty word with her, let fall the serviette on a chair as he caught up his hat and overcoat, and went out.  Katherine ran upstairs.

Hubert lay down on one of the drawing-room sofas.  In point of fact, that young gentleman could not walk straight.  A little wine takes effect on youngsters, especially when they are not accustomed to it.  Mrs. Carradyne told Hubert the best place for him was bed.  Not a bit of it, the boy answered:  he should go out on the terrace at twelve o’clock; the chimes would be fine, heard out there.  He fell asleep almost as he spoke; presently he woke up, feeling headachy, cross and stupid, and of his own accord went up to bed.

Meanwhile, the dining-room was getting jollier and louder as the time passed on towards midnight.  Great wonder was expressed at the non-return of the parson; somebody must be undoubtedly grievously sick or dying.  Mr. Speck, the quiet little Hurst Leet doctor, dissented from this.  Nobody was dying in the parish, he affirmed, or sick enough to need a priest; as a proof of it, he had not been sent for.

Ring, ring, ring! broke forth the chimes on the quiet midnight air, as the church clock finished striking twelve.  It was a sweet sound; even those prejudiced against the chimes could hear that:  the windows had been opened in readiness.

The glasses were charged; the company stood on their legs, some of them not at all steady legs just then, bending their ears to listen.  Captain Monk stood in his place, majestically waving his head and his left hand to keep time in harmony with the Bay of Biscay.  His right hand held his goblet in readiness for the toast when the sounds should cease.

Ring, ring, ring! chimed the last strokes of the bells, dying away to faintness on the still evening air.  Suddenly, amidst the hushed silence, and whilst the sweet melody fell yet unbroken on the room, there arose a noise as of something falling outside on the terrace, mingled with a wild scream and the crash of breaking glass.

One of the guests rushed to the window, and put his head out of it.  So far as he could see, he said (perhaps his sight was somewhat obscured), it was a looking-glass lying further up on the terrace.

Thrown out from one of the upper windows! scornfully pronounced the Captain, full of wrath that it should have happened at that critical moment to mar the dignity of his coming toast.  And he gave the toast heartily; and the new year came in for them all with good wishes and good wine.

Some little time yet ere the company finally rose.  The mahogany frame of the broken looking-glass, standing on end, was conspicuous on the white ground in the clear frosty night, as they streamed out from the house.  Mr. Speck, whose sight was rather remarkably good, peered at it curiously from the hall steps, and then walked quickly along the snowy terrace towards it.