"Hullo, that's a' ugly blow for we!" said the tranter, in a keenly
appreciative voice, and turning to his companions.

"Finish the carrel, all who be friends of harmony!" commanded old
William; and they continued to the end.

"Four breaths, and number nineteen!" said William firmly. "Give it him
well; the quire can't be insulted in this manner!"

A light now flashed into existence, the window opened, and the farmer
stood revealed as one in a terrific passion.

"Drown en!--drown en!" the tranter cried, fiddling frantically. "Play
fortissimy, and drown his spaking!"

"Fortissimy!" said Michael Mail, and the music and singing waxed so loud
that it was impossible to know what Mr. Shiner had said, was saying, or
was about to say; but wildly flinging his arms and body about in the
forms of capital Xs and Ys, he appeared to utter enough invectives to
consign the whole parish to perdition.

"Very onseemly--very!" said old William, as they retired. "Never such a
dreadful scene in the whole round o' my carrel practice--never! And he a
churchwarden!"

"Only a drap o' drink got into his head," said the tranter. "Man's well
enough when he's in his religious frame. He's in his worldly frame now.
Must ask en to our bit of a party to-morrow night, I suppose, and so put
en in humour again. We bear no mortal man ill-will."