But early in the morning, when there is barely enough light in the east to dim the stars, it begins to lull.

From that time, with occasional wild charges, like a wounded monster dying, it drops and sinks; and at full daylight it is dead.
It is then seen that the hands of the Cathedral clock are torn off; that lead from the roof has been stripped away, rolled up, and blown into the Close; and that some stones have been displaced upon the summit of the great tower.

Christmas morning though it be, it is necessary to send up workmen, to ascertain the extent of the damage done.

These, led by Durdles, go aloft; while Mr.Tope and a crowd of early idlers gather down in Minor Canon Corner, shading their eyes and watching for their appearance up there.
This cluster is suddenly broken and put aside by the hands of Mr.Jasper; all the gazing eyes are brought down to the earth by his loudly inquiring of Mr.Crisparkle, at an open window: 'Where is my nephew ?' 'He has not been here.

Is he not with you ?' 'No.