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TWO:Then came an evening in April, when the air smelled of primroses and young leaves. The choir practice was early, and rifts of sunshine sloped up the clerk's kitchen, linking in one golden slant Robert's dark healthy face just under the ceiling, Bessie's shoulders pressed against his arm, the frail old hands of Joe Hearsfield on his flute, and the warm plum-brown of the bass viol close to the floor. To Robert it was all a dream of holiness and harmony. Old Spodgram confined himself almost entirely to two notes, Miss Hubble insisted on her four bars of arrears, young Ditch extemporised an alto of surprising reediness, and Robert bellowed the last lines of the last verse just as the other choristers were loudly taking in breath preparatory to line three��but the whole thing was to him a foretaste of Paradise and the angels singing ever world without end. THREE:"Cudn't spare one hand to fetch over fifteen��that's a valiant idea. Now d?an't go loitering; fetch out your cattle afore they're roast beef, git out the horses and all the stock��and souse them ricks wot ?un't burning yit.""Simon Sudbury," retorted the monk, "if, as thou sayest, I am degraded, to thee no authority is due��if I am still a chosen one of the Lord, methinks I am free to enter and worship in his temple: but," he continued, elevating his tones to their fullest compass, "whether I am a priest or no priest, yet here I am powerful, and, proud prelate, I, in my turn, command thee hence!"

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