“Seize him!” cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder.
The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the choir. Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was impeded by a number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the sexton, seized the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. Cries of rage mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, trembling with horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was high time to move, or his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his manuscript and bounded down the pulpit stairs.
“Unfrock him!” yelled Mr. Poodle.
“He's never been frocked!” roared the Bishop.
“Impostor!” cried Mr. Airedale.
“Excommunicate him!” screamed Mr. Towser.
“Take him before the consistory!” shouted Mr. Poodle.
Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as a chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. The Bishop leapt
