'He's got no trifle of a piece of work!'
However, Felix had taken in that the chancel had respectable poppy-
headed benches, though the lower part of the church was completely
'emparoked in pues,' such as surprised Lance out of all bounds when
he withdrew his eyes from the white marble death's head.
'My stars!' again he said, 'this is what I've heard of, but never
saw.'
'Ay, Sir,' said Mr. Tripp, 'every one that come here do be crying out
upon the pews; and to be sure, I see the folk sleepin' in them as is
shameful!'
'Well he might, for his place was the lowest in a lofty three-decker,
against one pier of the chancel arch, surmounted by a golden angel
blowing a trumpet, and with lettering round the sounding-board,
recording it to have been the gift of the Reverend Lancelot
Underwood, Rector and Vicar of this parish--the owner of the mural
slab before mentioned. That angel recalled to Felix that the sight of
it had been his great pleasure in going to church, only marred by the
fact that he was out of sight of it in the chancel.
'Why, you weren't in the choir then?' said Lance.
'Choir! no, Sir,' said the clerk. 'They sits in the gallery.
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