Pasco filled each glass, and then ensued a nodding all round; eyes were turned up, lips smacked, and the precious liquor allowed to trickle down the throats in thin rills over the tongue. Presently the clarionet put down his glass and said, “It was a lucky job, Pasco, that your rick o’ straw escaped t’other night.” “Ay, ’twas a first-rate chance,” said the landlord, who had come and remained to taste his own brew and hear encomiums on it. “You see the wind was t’other way,” said the ’cello. “And ’twasn’t insured,” added the clarionet. All the rest looked round, and frowned, and reared their chins. The clarionet shrank together. What had he said? Something stupid or uncivil? He was too dull to see where his error lay. “That had nothing to do with it. ’Twas water chucked over it as saved it,” threw in the bassoon, flying to the rescue. “My straw rick suffered more from well-intentioned assistants than from anything else,” said Pepperill. “The wind was direct away from it, and so it couldn’t hurt.” “It was coorious, though, the fire taking place when everyone was away from home,” said the clarionet. Again all looked indignantly at him. That instrument had a way of always sounding out of key. “There was nothing coorious at all in it,” answered the churchwarden, with promptitude. “It was just because everyone was away that the fire got the upper hand.” “There’s something in that,” said the hautboy. “There is everything,” answered Pasco. “If I or my wife had been at the Cellars, we would have speedily called help and had the fire extinguished before it could take hold. No one was there, so it was allowed freedom to get the mastery, and then, no one could do nothing.” “That’s true,” said the second violin. “It’s true,” said the rest of the instruments in unison, looking into each other’s faces; “it couldn’t be truer.” “You don’t happen to know how the fire came about?” asked the clarionet. “I don’t _know_,” answered the churchwarden. “You don’t know,” repeated the violoncello, “but you guess.” “I have my ideas,” observed Pasco. “Gents! let me fill your glasses again.” “And if I might make so bold to ask?” pursued the clarionet. “My mouth is shut,” answered Pasco. “I don’t want to hurt nobody, least of all a relation. Just fancy, gents all! the insurance company have refused payment.” “You don’t say so! Well! what is the world coming to? But it all stands in prophecy, in the Book o’ Dan’l,” said the hautboy. “It is one of them beasts in Revelation!” said the second fiddle. “The question only is which.” “But,” pursued Pepperill, “I’ve set my solicitor at ’em. He’ll make ’em dance a Halantow.” “Very glad to hear it,” said the bassoon. “I drink to his and your success.” “We’re going to institute proceedings,” continued Pasco. “What is proceedings?” asked the clarionet under his hand of the hautboy. “It’s a sort of blister o’ Spanish fly,” was the answer, also in confidence.