"True, true, Dewy," Mr. Maybold answered, trying to withdraw his head and
shoulders without moving his feet; but finding this impracticable, edging
back another inch. These frequent retreats had at last jammed Mr.
Maybold between his easy-chair and the edge of the table.

And at the moment of the announcement of the choir, Mr. Maybold had just
re-dipped the pen he was using; at their entry, instead of wiping it, he
had laid it on the table with the nib overhanging. At the last retreat
his coat-tails came in contact with the pen, and down it rolled, first
against the back of the chair, thence turning a summersault into the
seat, thence falling to the floor with a rattle.

The vicar stooped for his pen, and the tranter, wishing to show that,
however great their ecclesiastical differences, his mind was not so small
as to let this affect his social feelings, stooped also.

"And have you anything else you want to explain to me, Dewy?" said Mr.
Maybold from under the table.

"Nothing, sir. And, Mr. Mayble, you be not offended? I hope you see our
desire is reason?" said the tranter from under the chair.

"Quite, quite; and I shouldn't think of refusing to listen to such a
reasonable request," the vicar replied. Seeing that Reuben had secured
the pen, he resumed his vertical position, and added, "You know, Dewy, it
is often said how difficult a matter it is to act up to our convictions
and please all parties. It may be said with equal truth, that it is
difficult for a man of any appreciativeness to have convictions at all.
Now in my case, I see right in you, and right in Shiner. I see that