behind. The two men were discussing the holes in the roof and other
dilapidations.

"One, two, three," the Squire counted. "I'll send a couple of men
with tarpaulin and rick-ropes. That'll tide us over next Sunday,
unless it blows hard."

They passed up three steps under the belfry arch. Here a big bell
rested on the flooring. Its rim was cracked, but not badly. A long
ladder reached up into the gloom.

"What's the beam like?" the Squire called up to someone aloft.

"Sound as a bell," answered a voice.

"I said so. We'll have en hoisted by Sunday, I'll send a waggon over
to Wheel Gooniver for a tackle and winch. Damme, up there!
Don't keep sheddin' such a muck o' dust on your betters!"

"I can't help no other, Squire!" said the voice overhead; "such a
cauch o' pilm an' twigs, an' birds' droppins'! If I sneeze I'm a
lost man."

Taffy, staring up as well as he could for the falling rubbish, could
just spy a white smock above the beam, and a glint of daylight on the
toe-scutes of two dangling boots.

"I'll dam soon make you help it. _Is_ the beam sound?"

"Ha'n't I told 'ee so?" said the voice querulously.