See, the time is flying....”[[59]]
yelled the choir-master, hammering unmercifully on the keys.
“The lasses went to the fields to play,
Among the grasses and flowers gay.”[[59]]
bellowed the choir.
“Oh, my bonny blue kirtle!”[[59]]
howled the tipsy deacon, swinging his legs under the table.
“In the name of law and order!” shrieked the choir-master. “Basses, out with your tone! Crescendo! Crescendo!”
At about eleven o’clock at night the deacon was hunting for his galoshes in the ante-room. For a long time he could not find them; at last he stuck his foot into somebody’s cap, which happened to be lying on the floor, and went home.