“Now then， now then，” came the Cabby‘s voice， a good firm， hardy voice. “Keep cool， everyone， that’s what I say. No bones broken， anyone？ Good. Well， there‘s something to be thankful for straight away， and more than anyone could expect after falling all that way. Now， if we’ve fallen down some diggings.as it might be for a new station on the Underground.someone will come and get us out presently， see！ And if we‘re dead.which I don’t deny it might be. well， you got to remember that worse things ‘appen at sea and a chap’s got to die sometime. And there ain‘t nothing to be afraid of if a chap’s led a decent life. And if you ask me， I think the best thing we could do to pass the time would be sing a ‘ymn.”
And he did. He struck up at once a harvest thanksgiving hymn， all about crops being “safely gathered in”. It was not very suitable to a place which felt as if nothing had ever grown there since the beginning of time， but it was the one he could remember best. He had a fine voice and the children joined in； it was very cheering. Uncle Andrew and the Witch did not join in.
