twilight, which was rather pervasive of the landscape than traceable to
the sky. The breeze had gone down, and the rustle of their feet and
tones of their speech echoed with an alert rebound from every post,
boundary-stone, and ancient wall they passed, even where the distance of
the echo's origin was less than a few yards. Beyond their own slight
noises nothing was to be heard, save the occasional bark of foxes in the
direction of Yalbury Wood, or the brush of a rabbit among the grass now
and then, as it scampered out of their way.

Most of the outlying homesteads and hamlets had been visited by about two
o'clock; they then passed across the outskirts of a wooded park toward
the main village, nobody being at home at the Manor. Pursuing no
recognized track, great care was necessary in walking lest their faces
should come in contact with the low-hanging boughs of the old lime-trees,
which in many spots formed dense over-growths of interlaced branches.

"Times have changed from the times they used to be," said Mail, regarding
nobody can tell what interesting old panoramas with an inward eye, and
letting his outward glance rest on the ground, because it was as
convenient a position as any. "People don't care much about us now! I've
been thinking we must be almost the last left in the county of the old
string players? Barrel-organs, and the things next door to 'em that you
blow wi' your foot, have come in terribly of late years."

"Ay!" said Bowman, shaking his head; and old William, on seeing him, did
the same thing.

"More's the pity," replied another. "Time was--long and merry ago
now!--when not one of the varmits was to be heard of; but it served some
of the quires right. They should have stuck to strings as we did, and