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There were mysterious sounds, all of them musical. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. Critically, she stared at her own features. She pushed the former and it opened. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on.
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