"I am afraid," explained their host, "that the credit belongs to Caleb, who insisted upon placing the text there; and as he had obtained it with considerable trouble from the Vicar (it was used, I believe, to decorate St. Symphorian's last Christmas), I had not the heart to deny him. But for what are we waiting?" He was answered by the appearance of Caleb, who marched up to Tamsin with a woeful face, and announced in a loud whisper that "Suthin' was up wi' the soup." "I think," said she, rising, "if you will let me help--" "Sutt'nly," assented Peter in a loud tone. "To be sure--that es, beggin' your pard'n, sir," he added apologetically. "It is very good of you," said Mr. Fogo. "I should like to help," she explained, and followed Caleb to the kitchen. Somehow, with her absence, an oppressive silence fell on the three men. Peter coughed at intervals, and once even began a sentence, but stopped halfway. Mr. Fogo did not heed him, but had fallen to drumming softly with his spoon upon the table. A full five minutes passed thus, and then he started to his feet. "Must you really be going?" "Eh?" "It is early yet; but I suppose you have some distance to go?" "What?" "Let me, at least, help you on with your coats." They stared blankly at him. There was a faraway look in his eyes, but his speech was quiet and distinct enough. Like lambs they obeyed, and marched out into the hall. "I am afraid I am too weak to offer much assistance--" "Don't 'ee menshun et." They resumed their coats, and groped for hats and sticks. A deep and awful wonder possessed them both. "The night is fine," observed their host, as he opened the door: "you will have a pleasant journey home. _Good_-night!" He shook them by the hand as they staggered out, shut the door upon them, and returned pensively to the dining-room. As the door closed behind them, the brothers looked into each other's eyes. Paul gave a short gasp, and leant against a pillar of the verandah. "Peter!" "Paul!" "Wud 'ee mind pinchin' me i' the ca'f o' the leg, jes' to make sure?" "I was a-goin' to ax the same favour, Paul." "Well, churchwarden or no churchwarden, I reckon I _am_ damned!" "What I complains of in this 'ere fash'nubble life," said Peter slowly, "es this--'tes too various--by a sight, too various." "Arter eatin' next door to nuthin' all day, so's we mou'tn' be behindhand in tacklin' the vittles!" There was an interval of painful stupor. "Paul!" "Peter!" "I'm reckonin' up what my hunger's wuth at this moment. I dunno as I'd take twenty pund for 't." Inside the house Mr. Fogo had sunk into an armchair, and was regarding the ceiling with thoughtful attention. He was aroused by steps in the hall, and Tamsin re-entered the room, followed by Caleb with the soup-tureen. "Hulloa! where's the Twins?" "Eh?" "Es this a round game, or a conjurin' trick?"