"Hullo? look, here's a robin; what fun!" said Dick shying his cap at one of the robins, who, from his perch on the rack, was contemplating the doings of mankind, with his head on one side, and thinking probably what fools they must be, to be carrying on their unmeaning games, instead of sleeping and letting him sleep. Dick had three or four shots with his cap at the birds, before Mabel, backed by Willie, to whom she appealed, could make him leave them alone. Then they took to forfeits again; and Dick, who was absolute lord of misrule in the place, soon made it too uproarious. Whenever it came to his turn to declare a forfeit (and he constantly managed that it should do so, by making horrible faces, and otherwise interrupting the one whose turn it was to repeat), he played some half-malicious prank. At last, having caught up the dairy-maid, he declared her forfeit "clenching hands.” This operation is performed by the caller and payer of the forfeit standing up, and joining their hands with the fingers laced, when the gentleman, by extending his arms, brings the lady's face close up to his own, and kisses her. In the present case, the dairy-maid, being full as strong as Master Dick, kept him nearly at arms' length; but the attempt annoyed Mabel, who put a stop to the game. Whereupon Dick took himself off till supper-time, declaring them slow. They were getting rather tired, and the embers of the fagot were all red-hot and nearly consumed; so they made a circle round, and the maids brought some logs and put them on. "Now, Aunt Nelly, you must sing us a song." "O yes, the one about the sisters, and the cherry without a stone, please," said Bobby. "Very well. Mabel, you will take the questions. And, mind, you must all sing the chorus." "I had four sisters lived over the sea, Parra marra dictum domine; They each sent a Christmas present to me, The second sent a bird without a bone, Partum quartum paradise templum, &c. The fourth sent a book no man could read, How could it be a bird without a bone? Partun quartum paradise templum, &c. How could it be a book no man could read? When the bird 's in the egg it has no bone, Partum quartum paradise templum, &c. When the blanket's in the fleece it has no thread, Parra marra dictum domine; When the book 's in the press no man can read, Parra marra dictum domine." The song and chorus delighted the children; and then Mabel was called on for her story, which would, no doubt, fascinate readers as much as it did her audience round the remains of the ashen fagot, were there space to give it. And now it was getting near eight o'clock, the chimes were ringing out, and it was time to prepare the kitchen for the supper of the grown-up folk. Nelly and her charge withdrew through the house, and the other children dispersed. Mabel remained to give an eye to the supper arrangements. Presently Bobby and Maggie, who had not yet been carried off, ran up and pulled her gown. 66 "O Mabel, come and look, do come and look!" "What is it, Bobby?" "O, two great hairy faces, like the giants in our picture book!" "Where? What do you mean, Bobby?" "Here, at the window. They frightened Maggie so." "O yes, that they did," said Maggie, holding on to her sister's gown. "You ain't afraid, Mabel?" 'No, dear; come along." So she went to the window, which looked out on the garden, and which she had opened a few minutes before to freshen the room. 'Why, Bobby, you must have fancied it all." "No, no; did n't we see two great hairy faces, such big ones, looking in?" "O yes, Mabel." Mabel looked out carefully amongst the shrubs. The moon and snow made it almost as light as day, except just in the shadow of the house; but she could see nothing. 66 "Well, Bobby, you see they've run away. They could n't get through these bars at any rate; so we're quite safe. Hark! there are the school-children, singing a carol at papa's window. Come along; you can go and hear them, and say good-night to papa." And so Mabel and the children left the kitchen. "Nearly caught, eh, Johnny?" whispered the elder of our travellers, as the two drew themselves up in the shadow of the house, behind a laurel. "Who was the pretty little bright-eyed girl?" "My little sister, Maggie." "And the boy?" "My youngest brother, Bob." "And the tall girl they ran up to?" "My eldest sister, Mabel." "You're a lucky dog. Hark! what's that?" "The school-children, singing a carol before the house." They listened while the young voices sang the grand old carol "While shepherds kept their flocks by night." Neither spoke for some seconds after the voices ceased. What are you going to do, Johnny," Herbert said, gen. tly, at last. "O, I don't quite know yet; I am so confused still. You don't mind waiting a little?" "Not a bit. As long as you please, so that we get housed by bedtime." "Here come the people to 'Ashen Fagot,' stand back.” "Now, papa. They have done supper, and Dick and I have put the Ashen Fagot on, and it's just blazing up. You'll come in and wish them a merry Christmas, won't you?" Mr. Kendrick rose from his chair in the parlor, where he was sitting with his wife and Mabel, and prepared to go with Willie. "But the vicar is n't come," he said; "he would like to go in with me and say a few words to them." "O John, I'll wait for the vicar and Nelly, and bring them in for a few minutes when they come." So Mr. Kendrick and Mabel went with Willie back to the kitchen, where the Ashen Fagot was already crackling and roaring away merrily on the dogs. The women, who had supped with their husbands and brothers, were seated in the chimney-corner, and round one side of the fire on benches, leaving the space clear between the fire and the long table. At the upper end of the table, the bailiff, the carpenter, the parish clerk, and the wheelwright were seated, and the farm-laborers, men and boys, below. Mabel joined the women, while her father took the top of the table; the men all rising till he had taken his seat, with Willie by his side. Dick was seated at his ease next to he bailiff, on the opposite side from Moses, the carpenter. There were several large copper jugs on the table, out of one of which Mr. Kendrick filled a horn of beer. "Here's a merry Christmas to you all," he said, drinking, " and I hope you've enjoyed yourselves to-night?" "Ees, ees, that us hev'," chorused the men, and, at a sign from the bailiff, Moses, the carpenter, cleared his throat and "Your health, zur, and missus's, and ael th' fam❜ly, and a merry Christmas to ee ael, and many ov 'em!" followed this poetical greeting, which was sung vociferously, the words being those of an old harvest-home song, well known for generations to all the inhabitants of Avenly. "Now you can light your pipes, and make the most of your time; the Ashen Fagot waits for nobody." The lighting up of pipes soon followed this permission ; and Mr. Kendrick, after chatting for a minute or two to the men nearest him, was just getting up to speak, when the lowest of the hazel bonds of the Ashen Fagot burst. "A bond! a bond! drenk to th' bond!" said several voices. The bailiff looked at his master, who seated himself at once. "No, no, I can wait," he said; "keep to your custom. sip and a song for every bond." A This saying was received with enthusiasm, and a call on Muster Hockle followed. The carpenter seemed the favorite performer. "Gie 's th' howl's disaster, Maester Hockle," suggested the bailiff. |