ute swing and improved time as its music
proceeded. The lusty treble of the youngsters soon drowned the notes of
their grandfathers; for the boys took their measure at a pace beyond the
power of Gaffer Lezzard and his generation, and sang with heart and
voice to keep themselves warm. The song has variants, but this was their
version--

"Here 's to thee, auld apple-tree,
Be sure you bud, be sure you blaw,
And bring forth apples good enough--
Hats full, caps full, three-bushel bags full,
Pockets full and all--
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Hats full, caps full, three-bushel bags full,
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

Then Billy fired his blunderbuss, and a flame leapt from its bell mouth
into the branches of the apple-tree, while surrounding high lands echoed
its report with a reverberating bellow that rose and fell, and was flung
from hill to hill, until it gradually faded upon the ear. The boys
cheered again, everybody drank a drop of the cider, and from under a
cloud of blue smoke, that hung flat as a pancake above them in the still
air, all moved onward. Presently the party separated into three groups,
each having a gunner to lead it, half a dozen boys to sing, and a
dwindling jar of cider for the purposes of the ceremony. The divided
choirs clashed their music, heard from a distance; the guns fired at
intervals, each sending forth its own particular detonation and winning
back a distinctive echo; then the companies separated widely and
decreased to mere twinkling, torchlit points in the distance.
Accumulated smoke from the scattered discharges hung in a sluggish haze
between earth and moon, and a sharp smell of burnt powder tainted the
sweetness of the frosty night.

Upon this scene arrived John Grirnbal and his sweetheart. They stood for
a while at the open orchard gate, gazed at the remote illumination, and
heard the distant song. Then they returned to discussion of their own
affairs; while at hand, unseen, the grey watcher moved impatiently and
anxiously. The thing he desired did not come about, and he blew on his
cold hands and swore under his breath. Only an orchard hedge now
separated them, and he might have listened to Phoebe's soft speech had
he crept ten yards nearer, while John Grimbal's voice he could not help
hearing from time to time. The big man was just asking a question not
easy to answer, when an unexpected interruption saved Phoebe from the
difficulty