been white; but a huge pyracanth now darkened the greater
portion.

It became at once evident that the dance was proceeding immediately
within the surface of the door, no apartment intervening. The brushing
of skirts and elbows, sometimes the bumping of shoulders, could be
heard against the very panels. Eustacia, though living within two
miles of the place, had never seen the interior of this quaint old
habitation. Between Captain Vye and the Yeobrights there had never
existed much acquaintance, the former having come as a stranger and
purchased the long-empty house at Mistover Knap not long before
the death of Mrs. Yeobright's husband; and with that event and the
departure of her son such friendship as had grown up became quite
broken off.

"Is there no passage inside the door, then?" asked Eustacia as they
stood within the porch.

"No," said the lad who played the Saracen. "The door opens right upon
the front sitting-room, where the spree's going on."

"So that we cannot open the door without stopping the dance."

"That's it. Here we must bide till they have done, for they always
bolt the back door after dark."

"They won't be much longer," said Father Christmas.

This assertion, however, was hardly borne out by the event. Again the
instruments ended the tune; again they recommenced with as much fire
and pathos as if it were the first strain. The air was now that one
without any particular beginning, middle, or end, which perhaps, among
all the dances which throng an inspired fiddler's fancy, best conveys
the idea of the interminable--the celebrated "Devil's Dream." The
fury of personal movement that was kindled by the fury of the notes
could be approximately imagined by these outsiders under the moon,
from the occasional kicks of toes and heels against the door, whenever
the whirl round had been of more than customary velocity.

The first five minutes of listening was interesting enough to the
mummers. The five minutes extended to ten minutes, and these to a
quarter of an hour; but no signs of ceasing were audible in the lively
Dream. The bumping against the door, the laughter, the stamping, were
all as vigorous as ever, and the pleasure in being outside lessened
considerably.

"Why does Mrs. Yeobright give parties of this sort?" Eustacia asked,
a little surprised to hear merriment so pronounced.

"It is not one of her bettermost parlour-parties. She's asked the
plain neighbours and workpeople without dr