The stranger in cinder-gray took no notice of this whispered string of
observations, but again wetted his lips. Seeing that his friend in the
chimney-corner was the only one who reciprocated his joviality in any
way, he held out his cup towards that appreciative comrade, who also held
out his own. They clinked together, the eyes of the rest of the room
hanging upon the singer's actions. He parted his lips for the third
verse; but at that moment another knock was audible upon the door. This
time the knock was faint and hesitating.

The company seemed scared; the shepherd looked with consternation towards
the entrance, and it was with some effort that he resisted his alarmed
wife's deprecatory glance, and uttered for the third time the welcoming
words, 'Walk in!'

The door was gently opened, and another man stood upon the mat. He, like
those who had preceded him, was a stranger. This time it was a short,
small personage, of fair complexion, and dressed in a decent suit of dark
clothes.

'Can you tell me the way to--?' he began: when, gazing round the room to
observe the nature of the company amongst whom he had fallen, his eyes
lighted on the stranger in cinder-gray. It was just at the instant when
the latter, who had thrown his mind into his song with such a will that
he scarcely heeded the interruption, silenced all whispers and inquiries
by bursting into his third verse:-

'To-morrow is my working day,
Simple shepherds all -
To-morrow is a working day for me:
For the farmer's sheep is slain, and the lad who did it ta'en,