’The parson has sent me,’ said Crout, ’and he would not send me if I were not a Christian. As for my tatters, if you will give me an old coat, I’ll leave them behind. Please, Mr. Langford, the feoffees and guests are at the "Ring of Bells," and cannot begin without you. The beef is getting cold, and the goose is becoming burnt.’ ’Let them fall to. The dinner is sure to be good.’ ’How can they, master, without you or Mr. Nanspian?’ ’Is he not there?’ ’Not a speck of his fur waistcoat visible, not a glimmer of his blue eye to be seen. Ah, Mr. Langford, such a dinner! Such goose, with onion stuffing, and sage, and mint, and marjoram! I heard the butcher tell our landlord he’d never cut such a sirloin in all his life as that roasting for to-day; smells like a beanfield, and brown as a chestnut! As for the plum-pudding, it is bursting with raisins!’ ’That will suffice,’ said Taverner, unmoved by the description. ’I do not intend to go.’ ’Not intend to go! Very well, then, I shall have to go to Chimsworthy and bring Mr. Nanspian. I’ll tell him you haven’t the heart to meet folks. You prefer to hide your head here, as if you had committed something of which you are ashamed. Very well. When he hears that you durstn’t show, he will go and swagger at the "Ring of Bells" without you.’ ’I do not choose to meet him. He may be there after all.’ ’Not a bit. When I left all were assembled, and he was not there. May I be struck dead if he was there! The parson said to the rest, "Whatever shall we do without Master Langford, my own churchwarden, so to speak—my right hand, and the representative of the oldest and grandest family in the place. That is a come-down of greatness if he don’t turn up at the feoffees’ dinner." May I die on the doorstep if these were not his very words! Then he went on, "I did reckon on Master Langford to be here to keep me in countenance. Now here I lay down my knife and fork, and not a bite will I eat, nor a cut will I make into that bubbling, frizzling, savoury goose, unless Taverner Langford be here. So go along, Crout, and fetch him."’ ’Is that true?’ asked Langford, flattered. ’May my remaining leg and arm wither if it be not! Then Farmer Burneby up and said, "He durstn’t come, he’s mortally afraid of meeting Hillary Nanspian."’ ’Did he say that?’ asked Taverner, flushing. ’Strike me blind if he did not!’ ’I’ll come. Go on, I will follow.’ When Crout returned to the ’Ring of Bells,’ he found Nanspian there, large and red. The cripple slipped up to Piper and whispered, ’He’ll be here, leave a place opposite the other, and fall to at the beef.’ ’The fly,’ observed the parson to a couple of farmers—’the fly is the great enemy of the turnip. It attacks the seed-leaves when they appear.’ ’That is true.’ ’Now, what you want with turnips is a good shower after the seed has been sown, and warmth to precipitate the growth at the critical period. At least, so I have been informed.’