Sarah left the sofa and crossed to the window. "How lovely," she enthused. "Carol-singers to welcome us on our first Christmas in the country. What a nice surprise."
      She pulled aside the curtain and looked out. "There must be twelve of them at least. Do come and look, Tom. Why, they're all dressed in Victorian costume with old-fashioned lanterns on sticks. What a marvelous idea!"

           "O Tidings of Comfort and Joy, Comfort and Joy, O Tidings of Comfort and Joy."

      There was a knock at the door. "We must invite them in," said Sarah.. "Give them all a glass of wine. They must be frozen out there, poor things. And I've got some mince pies." She rushed out of the lounge and into the kitchen.
      "It's a good job we got well-stocked up for Christmas," said Tom.

            "With The Angelic Host Proclaim, Christ is Born in Bethlehem. Hark! The Herald-Angels Sing Glory to The New Born King."

      While Sarah was getting the mince-pies, she heard Tom open the front door and invite them all in. There was a general confusion of voices, in which she could hear "Merry Christmas", "Season's Greetings", "God bless you". As she returned with the pies, she found her husband beginning to pour out glasses of wine. And then they started on the first chorus of "Good King Wenceslas".

      When it was all over and the carol-singers had departed with a last "Merry Christmas", a handshake and a friendly wave of farewell, Sarah put her head on Tom's shoulder. "What a marvelous start to Christmas," she sighed. They sauntered dreamily back into the lounge, and Tom began to uncork a new bottle of wine.    
      Wait a minute," said Sarah, picking something up off the back of a chair. It was a red velvet cap with a tassel in the middle.
      "Run after them, Tom, and tell them they've left a cap behind. They can't have gone far."

      Tom took the velvet cap and went outside. But there was no sign of the carol-singers. He looked up and down the road, but they had disappeared. It was strange, he thought. There had been no sound of cars starting, and he wouldn't have believed they could have walked out of sight so quickly.
      The wind had dropped, and there was not a whisper of movement. The silence was eerie. Tom shivered. He looked at Sarah and shrugged when he returned to the house. "Most peculiar," he mused. "They're nowhere to be seen."
      "Perhaps there's a name in the cap," said Sarah. "At least there ought to be a label giving the name of the shop where the clothes were hired."
      Tom looked in the cap. "The only thing here are the initials T.A.S. It must be some sort of theatrical agency..."
      "Perhaps something like 'Theatrical Apparel Services'," suggested Sarah.
      "Anyway, I'll go down to the village tomorrow and find out," said Tom. "I'm sure they'll be anxious to get it back."

~

      Old John drained his glass. "That's very kind of you, young fella, I don't mind if I do have another."
      "About the carol-singers?" Tom reminded him. "No-one I've talked to in the village seems to know anything about them. They all suggested you were the chap to talk to. If anyone wants to know anything about the village, I was told, they should ask John Selby.
      The old man took a pipe from his pocket and started to fill it with tobacco. "There used to be carol-singers here years and years ago. But there's not been any around here for a long time now."
      Tom put a fresh pint on the table in front of the old villager. He said, "But carol-singers came to our house last night. They..."
      The old man was shaking his head. "Maybe from another village - doing a bit of poaching, as you might say. But not from round here. No way. I'd know all about it otherwise."  He struck a match and lit his pipe, puffing out billows of smoke.

      Tom felt inside his coat pocket for the cap, which he had carefully folded up and put there before coming out.
      "Lost something?" asked the old man.
      "Er - no, no, it's alright, nothing important, something I must have left at home." He was absolutely certain, however, that it had been in his pocket when he left the house.

      "At one time there was a great tradition hereabouts in carol-singing. But that was a long time ago."  Old John chuckled to himself. "Why, I remember my old grandfather telling us a story about how he got scolded by his parents for staying out late with the carol-singers one night and losing his best cap. Mind you, Grandad was eighty-five when he died in '57, so I reckon that was back in Victorian times. His name was Thomas Andrew Selby.  

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