The doctor waved his staff, and in capered the dragon, a sort of hobble horse made of hoops under distended canvas, and worked by an inside performer. The great snapping jaws and staring eyes scared the little ones, but they laughed when they found it was only the slain Turk that he wanted. The unfortunate Turk, grasped by those rigorous jaws, was dragged from the hall.
The entertainment ended with the passing of the Christmas box, into which each one threw an offering, and as if in thankfulness for the amount the Christmas band, Turk, and dragon as well, mingled in a ludicrous dance, after which the whole crew was regaled with hot egg-nogg and cake.
In the midst of the conversation and laughter new sounds penetrated the hall from without.
"Angels from the realms of glory,
Wing your flight o'er all the earth,
Ye who sang creation's story,
Now proclaim Messiah's birth."
Some of the hall occupants rushed to the hall windows to see the singers. There in the pale moonlight were singers from the parish church and neighbourhood. They were singing, accompanied with the music of clarionet and serpent players. After the anthem the squire sent the old steward out to bid the choristers enter. He did so by saying to the choristers: "The squire wants hall hangels to come in." They entered and continued singing.
In the midst of the singing the Turkish knight leaned over to St. George and muttered:
"Ande, I'll be a Turkey snipe no more, when thee art St. George."
"Why?" said Ande, "and for goodness sake why do 'ee call it 'Turkey snipe'? Did 'ee notice the squire smile? A Turkish knight, you mean."
"Aye, I forgits the name; but 'ee nearly beat my insides out with thy old wooden sword, so 'ee did,'" growled Tommy Puckinharn, softly.
Ande gazed at the Turk's melancholy countenance, and chuckled in amusement.