forthcoming village festivities, and the squire's carriage with the
squire and his family, followed by the luggage cart, on their way to
the railway station:

_First Rustic_. Where be them folks a-goin' to; I wonder?

_Second Rustic_. Off to Lunnon, I reckon, but they'll be back for the
Cor-o-nation.

Soon after the reopening of the church I overtook Bell as we were
returning from Sunday morning service. It was a dark day, and the
pulpit, having been moved from the south to the north side of the
nave--farther from the windows--the clerk lighted the desk candles
before the Vicar began his sermon. I asked Bell how he liked the
service, referring to the new choir and music; he hesitated, not
wanting, as I was the Vicar's churchwarden, to appear critical, but
being too conscientious to disguise his feelings. I could see that he
was troubled, and asked what was the matter. Then it came out; it was
"them candles!" which he took to be part of the ritual, and he added,
"But you ain't a-goin' to make a Papist of me!"

Bell was proof against attempted bribery, and often came chuckling to
me over his refusals of dishonest proposals. A man from whom I used to
buy large quantities of hop-poles required some withy "bonds" for
tying faggots; they are sold at a price per bundle of 100, and the
applicant suggested that 120 should be placed in each bundle. Bell was
to receive a recognition for his complicity in the fraud, and he
agreed on condition that in my next deal for hop-poles 100 should be
represented by 120 in like manner. The bargain did not materialize.