“It’s the tune of ‘Kitty Alone and I,’” retorted the irreverent countryman, and he began to sing’ “‘There was a frog lived in a well, Crock-a-mydaisy, Kitty alone; And a merry mouse lived in a mill, Kitty alone and I.’” The instruments behind the lighted window-curtains were hushed. They had heard the rustic song. “It is that, ain’t it?” pursued the man. “I’ll sing another verse, and make sure’ “‘So here’s an end to the lovers three, Crock-a-mydaisy, Kitty alone, The Rat, the Mouse, and the little Frogee, Kitty alone and I.’” Within, the instrumentalists looked at each other. None spoke for a minute, and then the ’cello said, in a deep voice, as from a tomb, “Puddicombe han’t riz to the theme. He’s forgot and worked in that frog and mouse tune. Not but what it’s a good ’un, only unsootable.” “It’s easy set right,” observed the first violin. “If you’ll wait, brothers, I’ll clap on my hat and run up to his house, and get him to titch it up a bit, and git the Kitty tune out of it altogether. The fugg was famous.” “Yes,” said the second violin; “it’s only to stir it about a bit and shuffle as you do cards. Cut along with all your legs.” At that moment Pasco Pepperill came up, puffing, looking about him half suspiciously, half defiantly. “How are ye, gents?” said he. “What! practising? I don’t mind if I sit a bit and listen to you. I’m fond of music, especially sacred music, as I’m churchwarden.” CHAPTER XLV DAYLIGHT The musicians looked at each other. They could hardly continue to practise Puddicombe in F till the little awkwardness of the passage _largo molto con affettuoso caprizio_ was set to rights. It would be half an hour before this was done. Meanwhile, the orchestra might as well work their tongues as well as their arms and fingers, and blow questions and puff opinions in place of musical notes. They had assembled that evening with a double intent: the excuse for their meeting was the rehearsal; the real object, the airing of their views on the fire at the Cellars, its probable origin, and what had become of Jason Quarm. For the gathering of information on such matters, what was more fortunate than the presence in their midst of Pasco Pepperill, the man of all others best qualified to give information relative to the matters troubling all hearts? It was true that a good many’the bassoon and the ophicleide among the orchestra’entertained grave views relative to the conduct of Pepperill. Well! there the man was. They might prove him with keen questions, catch him off his guard with sly hits, entangle him in a net of incautious admissions into which they had lured him, and then sit in judgment on him and the whole case, after he had withdrawn.