"Wot's that?" his father-in-law repeated.Peasmarsh choir consisted of about eighteen boys and girls, with an accompaniment of cornets, flutes, and a bass violthe last played by an immensely aged drover from Coldblow, who, having only three fingers on his left hand, had to compromise, not always tunefully, with the score. The singing was erratic. Eighteen fresh young voices could not fail to give a certain pleasure, but various members had idiosyncrasies which did not make for the common wealsuch as young Ditch, who never knew till he had begun to sing whether his voice would be bass or alto, all intermediary pitches being somehow unattainableor Rosie Hubble from Barline, who was always four bars behind the restor[Pg 141] even young Robert himself, who in crises of enthusiasm was wont to sing so loud that his voice drowned everyone else's, or in a wild game of follow-my-leader led the whole anthem to destruction.
ONE:"Indeed, master Turner, I have as little as any man to brag of; forifit hadn't been for the watching and the advice of poor father John, my old mother might have been this day hanging her head with shame, instead of looking up as bold as any of them, and saying, 'my son,' or 'my Tom,' as well as the best."
"That's too much." Reuben's brows and mouth were straight lines."Wot?""No, noI w?an't have you go wearing yourself out. D?an't let's hear no more about it."The next morning she returned to Rye. But she could not stay there. Her heart was all restlessness and dissatisfaction. Soon Mrs. Backfield announced that she was coming back."Simon Islip ignorant! However, you admit that a writ was sent?""My lord, whatever charges Sir Robert Knowles may have against me, I am ready to meet them."