The entertainment ended with the passing of the Christmas box, into which each one threw an offering, and as if in thankfulness for the amount the Christmas band, Turk, and dragon as well, mingled in a ludicrous dance, after which the whole crew was regaled with hot egg-nogg and cake. In the midst of the conversation and laughter new sounds penetrated the hall from without. "Angels from the realms of glory, Wing your flight o'er all the earth, Ye who sang creation's story, Now proclaim Messiah's birth." Some of the hall occupants rushed to the hall windows to see the singers. There in the pale moonlight were singers from the parish church and neighbourhood. They were singing, accompanied with the music of clarionet and serpent players. After the anthem the squire sent the old steward out to bid the choristers enter. He did so by saying to the choristers: "The squire wants hall hangels to come in." They entered and continued singing. In the midst of the singing the Turkish knight leaned over to St. George and muttered: "Ande, I'll be a Turkey snipe no more, when thee art St. George." "Why?" said Ande, "and for goodness sake why do 'ee call it 'Turkey snipe'? Did 'ee notice the squire smile? A Turkish knight, you mean." "Aye, I forgits the name; but 'ee nearly beat my insides out with thy old wooden sword, so 'ee did,'" growled Tommy Puckinharn, softly. Ande gazed at the Turk's melancholy countenance, and chuckled in amusement. "It was all in the play, Tommy, and if 'ee didn't fight so hard and I didn't cut and slash as I did, perhaps we wouldn't 'ave the cake and good stuff that we are eating here now," said Ande, at which reply Tommy seemed some mollified. The "curl-singers" had finished their anthems and were regaled in the same manner as the Christmas players, and there was a lull in the amusements, when the great knocker on the hall door sounded the presence of a new visitor. CHAPTER XIII THE CORNISH DROLL TELLER "Seest thou not my harp? Emblem of my peaceful calling." --_Harper Ballad._ A servant opened the hall door and ushered in an old man, slightly bent under the weight of a harp under its green covering. He was clad in the ordinary garments of the time, except that he still clung to the long stockings, knee breeches, and low silver buckled shoes that were now generally being discarded by the gentry. From the hue of his hair, that was of an iron-grey and thick and wavy like his beard, and the slight stoop to his shoulders, he must have been in the neighbourhood of fifty years of age. There was a trace of humour around the corners of his mouth, and much fun-light in the gleam of his twinkling eyes that seemed to belie the tragic nature of his heavy beetling brows. "Uncle Billy! Uncle Billy!" shouted some of the younger ones, in glee.