youth
who looked rather older, did not receive the news with the pleasure
Walter expected.

"The old Crystal Palace again!" he grumbled. "Bother! What's the good
of going to the same place twice over? _I_ call it foolery and
rubbish."

"Oh, but the rector said that no one but you and three of the older
men had been before; and when he asked them whether they would like
anything else better, they said no. Benjamin Sorrell said that once
for seeing all over such a big place was nothing, and he'd like to
spend a week there."

"Let him, then; one day's enough for me. Of course, we must go as it's
settled; but you won't catch _me_ staying dawdling about, looking at
the same old things over and over again as I see two years ago. I
shall be off and enjoy myself somewhere else."

"But, Christopher, Mr. Richardson said most partic'lar we _must_ all
keep together or we should get lost; and we're all to wear red
rosettes on our left shoulders, that we may know each other at a
distance, if we should get separated by any accident."

"Oh, did he indeed?" replied Christopher scornfully. "P'raps some'll
do it. I think I know _one_ as won't."

Walter said no more. Chris was well known to be what the others called
"cranky" in his temper; and when he considered, as he generally did,
that he was right, and every one else wrong, there was nothing for it
but to leave him alone.

When Thursday came, it was a most lovely September day. There was
hardly any one among the thirty members of the Hartfield Parish Choir,
who drove in two big wagonettes to the station, that did not look
prepared to enjoy the day's outing to the utmost.

"Christopher don't look best pleased, though," thought Walter, as
they drove along, glancing at his friend's gloomy face. "And there's
Miss Richardson getting out the rosettes. I hope he won't go and make
a row; but there's no telling."

The Hartfield Choir consisted of men, lads, and boys, with about half
a dozen little girls. The boys and girls, of course, sang alto and
treble; the lads alto, if they could manage nothing better; and the
men bass and tenor. There were eight men between thirty and fifty
years of age, six lads like Walter, and sixteen children.

Half were in one long brake with the rector, and half in another with
the schoolmaster and Miss Richardson. About half-way between Hartfield
and the station, Miss Richardson produced a white cardboard box, which
she opened.

"Here," she said, ta