apparatus scattered beneath the pews on the following Saturday, and
cleared it out, to the amount (she averred) of two cart-loads.
She tossed it, bit by bit, over the west wall of the churchyard, where
in time it became a mound, covered high with sting-nettles. If you poke
among these nettles with your walking-stick, the odds are that you turn
up a scrap of rusty iron. But there exists more explicit testimony to
Zeb's wedding within the church--and within the churchyard, too, where
he and Ruby have rested this many a year.

Though the bubble of Farmer Tresidder's dreams was pricked that day,
there was feasting at Sheba until late in the evening. Nor until eleven
did the bride and bridegroom start off, arm in arm, to walk to their new
home. Before them, at a considerable distance, went the players and
singers--a black blur on the moonlit road; and very crisply their music
rang out beneath a sky scattered with cloud and stars. All their songs
were simple carols of the country, and the burden of them was but the
joy of man at Christ's nativity; but the young man and maid who walked
behind were well pleased.

"Now then," cried the voice of Old Zeb, "lads an' lasses all together
an' wi' a will--"

All under the leaves, an the leaves o' life,
I met wi' virgins seven,
An' one o' them was Mary mild,
Our Lord's mother of Heaven.

'O what are 'ee seekin', you seven fair maids,
All under the leaves o life;
Come tell, come tell, what seek ye