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