A thorough renovation of the bell-ringing machinery and accessories had taken place in anticipation of an interesting event.  New ropes had been provided; every bell had been carefully shifted from its carriage, and the pivots lubricated.  Bright red ‘sallies’ of woollen texture—­soft to the hands and easily caught—­glowed on the ropes in place of the old ragged knots, all of which newness in small details only rendered more evident the irrepressible aspect of age in the mass surrounding them.

The triple-bob-major was ended, and the ringers wiped their faces and rolled down their shirt-sleeves, previously to tucking away the ropes and leaving the place for the night.

‘Piph—­h—­h—­h!  A good forty minutes,’ said a man with a streaming face, and blowing out his breath—­one of the pair who had taken the tenor bell.

’Our friend here pulled proper well—­that ’a did—­seeing he’s but a stranger,’ said Clerk Crickett, who had just resigned the second rope, and addressing the man in the black coat.

‘’A did,’ said the rest.

‘I enjoyed it much,’ said the man modestly.

‘What we should ha’ done without you words can’t tell.  The man that d’belong by rights to that there bell is ill o’ two gallons o’ wold cider.’

‘And now so’s,’ remarked the fifth ringer, as pertaining to the last allusion, ‘we’ll finish this drop o’ metheglin and cider, and every man home—­along straight as a line.’

‘Wi’ all my heart,’ Clerk Crickett replied.  ’And the Lord send if I ha’n’t done my duty by Master Teddy Springrove—­that I have so.’

‘And the rest o’ us,’ they said, as the cup was handed round.

‘Ay, ay—­in ringen—­but I was spaken in a spiritual sense o’ this mornen’s business o’ mine up by the chancel rails there.  ’Twas very convenient to lug her here and marry her instead o’ doen it at that twopenny-halfpenny town o’ Budm’th.  Very convenient.’

‘Very.  There was a little fee for Master Crickett.’

’Ah—­well.  Money’s money—­very much so—­very—­I always have said it.  But ’twas a pretty sight for the nation.  He coloured up like any maid, that ‘a did.’

’Well enough ’a mid colour up.  ’Tis no small matter for a man to play wi’ fire.’

‘Whatever it may be to a woman,’ said the clerk absently.

‘Thou’rt thinken o’ thy wife, clerk,’ said Gad Weedy.  ’She’ll play wi’it again when thou’st got mildewed.’

’Well—­let her, God bless her; for I’m but a poor third man, I. The Lord have mercy upon the fourth! . . .  Ay, Teddy’s got his own at last.  What little white ears that maid hev, to be sure! choose your wife as you choose your pig—­a small ear and a small tale—­that was always my joke when I was a merry feller, ah—­years agone now!  But Teddy’s got her.  Poor chap, he was getten as thin as a hermit wi’ grief—­so was she.’

‘Maybe she’ll pick up now.’