There was bustle and activity in the parish. There was a chill in the air, the presage of the rapidly approaching Christmas time. House cleaning and baking occupied the time of the busy housewives. The small boy's eyes glistened as he watched the huge cakes, loaded with citron, currants, and coloured as yellow as gold with saffron, emerging from the oven and consigned, still steaming hot, to some secure place of retention. Then the bag-puddings—a most indigestible mass—yet sweet and toothsome, the pastries, pies, and fuggans, passed in regular order through the hands of the cook.
There is activity among the male population as well as among the housewives. Small lads run hither and thither crying shrilly, "Pennorths of Christmas," and exhibiting evergreen, holly and mistletoe for sale. The farmers are preparing bands for saluting the apple trees. Youngsters are planning schemes for watching the oxen kneel. Singers are practising, night after night, the Christmas carols or "curls." Youths are preparing for the Christmas play of St. George and the Turk.
Ande had been to Helston with the donkey and cart to purchase needed supplies, and in returning along the "Red Revver" road was allowing the animal to take his own gait.
"'Allo, Ande, we want 'ee for St. George in the Christmas play," said a voice from the hedge. It was Puckinharn.
"How art tha, Tommy! Up with 'ee and 'ave a ride. Who's in the company?" said Ande, all in one breath.
"We doant knaw as yet, but thee must be St. George, that's settled," said Tommy, as he clambered up into the cart.
"Well, if I'm to be St. George, we had better begin soon. Suppose we meet in our furze croft and get down to business this afternoon."
"The very place," assented Tommy.
The donkey was hurried on, while both lads planned and talked. That afternoon saw a crowd of the village boys assembled in the rough highland, "the croft," and after much debate the parts were assigned and practising begun.
Christmas eve came at length. The moon shone serenely from between broken clouds. The air was clear, crisp and cold, and made great coats a necessity to comfort. The trees had lost their leafy robe, and now stood shivering or shaking in envy of their evergreen brethren, while all the green hedges had aged into withered brown. There was a flash of light from the parish church tower, and then the single pencil of light was increased by another and another, until every window of the old structure was ablaze with illumination in honour of the coming birthday of the Nazarene. Light after light appeared in cottage of peasant and mansion of gentleman, as if an answer to the summons of the old church to do honour to Him who is the "light of the world." Then on the night air came the song of choirs and carol of singers, mingled with the strains of musical instruments. From cottage and hall sounded the merry noise of revelry, the hearty laugh and general good cheer.