The desks of the scholars being immovable were left in their places, and the audience--which comprised nearly the whole population of the village--sat like rows of elderly pupils ready to be instructed. Forms and desks were ranged in the centre of the room and there was a narrow walk on either side leading down to the wide door at the end of the building which was continually opening and shutting to admit late arrivals and exclude a view of the festive preparations from the penniless crowd outside who could not afford the necessary coppers for entrance fee. Illumination was provided by six oil lamps, three on each side, set in metal brackets, and from the centre of the roof over the stage hung a larger lamp, while the piano was further adorned with two weakly-looking tallow candles for the convenience of the musician. The school-mistress, Miss Busky, a dried-up prim-looking little woman, who resembled a cork fairy more than anything else, had further ornamented the bare room by wreathing round the maps and lamps strings of coloured paper flowers manufactured by artistically inclined pupils, and even the legs of the piano were swathed in these tissue paper decorations. Over the stage there was also a large placard bearing the word "Welcome" wreathed with artificial flowers, so that Miss Busky on surveying her handiwork felt quite content with the general effect of luxury produced by herself and her satellites. The programme was neatly written out by the best writers in the school, and handed only to favoured visitors as these efforts of penmanship were few in number. The visitors themselves, red, lusty country folk, had come from far and near to the concert, and the little school-room was uncomfortably full, but owing to the fierce efforts of Miss Busky, who bounced about like an india-rubber ball, everyone was at last comfortably settled. Mrs. Larcher and Pumpkin taking no part in the performance were accommodated with front seats, together with many of the country gentry, who always patronised these entertainments at the urgent request of the vicar, who greatly believed in good feeling and friendliness existing between the lords of the soil and their tenants. And now amid a great clapping of hands and stamping of heavily shod feet the popular vicar himself appeared on the stage as chairman, and took his seat beside a small table adorned with a jug of water, a glass and a programme. Dr. Larcher made a short speech, ending with a quotation from his favourite poet: "Et thure et fidibus juvat Placare," which hardly anyone understood, and then the serious business of the evening commenced.