I entered the eastern gate and called to Mrs. Langdale, the old housekeeper, and begged her to give me a hunch of cake to bestow on Thady. The good dame handed it through the mullioned window sourly enough, for Thady was no favourite with such a barndoor-natured woman as my old housekeeper. "'Tis little I'd get if yer leddyship wasn't here," laughed Thady. "'Get out and don't poison the place with yer breath, yer limb of Satan,'--that's what I'd hear if yer wasn't by, to stand by me," Thady whispered, as Mrs. Langdale shut the window with an angry snap. I passed the hunch of cake to Thady, and quickly, silently he put it into his voluminous pocket, in which it disappeared as in a well. Then Thady lifted his cap, and a second later I heard him whistling softly in the gloaming. As I went into the chapel hall I was greeted by Constance. I congratulated her warmly on her successful morning. Nothing could have been better, I said. It was a real scene of gaiety, and gave, I am sure, all the young and old, a great deal of enjoyment. "There not a budding boy or girl this day But is got up and gone to bring in May," I quoted laughingly. "The old times will come back to Wenlock, thanks to you, Constance," I said. "Over each house will be hung bough and garlands, till each household is given up to laughter and frolic." "There is much wisdom in wholesome laughter," my friend replied. "Perhaps the best thing that can be done for the people is to teach them how to play. They have almost forgotten how, in their desire to make money." Then my friend and I parted. [Sidenote: IN THE RUINED CHURCH] After dinner I wandered into the garden. It was a lovely night. The moon was hardly seen, only in faint peeps at intervals, but there was a mist of stars. I faintly saw the vane of the flying crane pointing due south, and in the distance I heard the hoot of an owl far away in the Abbot's Walk. In the pathway I saw dim shadowy creatures, which turned out to be toads enjoying the cool moisture of the night. Far away, in a cornfield, I caught the harsh cry of the corncrake, calling, calling--as he would call, I knew, all through the May nights. A little later, and over Windmoor Hill on the sheep-nipped turf would glisten nature's jewel, the glow-worm, but early in May such gems are rarely to be met with in our cold country. How lovely it was to wander round the garden and ruined church--to inhale the scent of the budding lilac, and the poet's narcissus in the grass, for where pious knees once knelt was then a milky way of floral stars. They glittered in the grass like faint jewels, and their rich perfume gave the evening air an intoxicating sweetness.