Bill looked appealingly to old Brooke, who got up and stopped the noise.

"Now then, lend a hand, you youngsters, and get the tables back; clear away the jugs and glasses.

Bill's right.

Open the windows, Warner." The boy addressed, who sat by the long ropes, proceeded to pull up the great windows, and let in a clear, fresh rush of night air, which made the candles flicker and gutter, and the fires roar.

The circle broke up, each collaring his own jug, glass, and song-book; Bill pounced on the big table, and began to rattle it away to its place outside the buttery door.