"How long will you be putting on your bonnet, Fancy?" **** inquired at the foot of the staircase. Being now a man of business and married, he was strong on the importance of time, and doubled the emphasis of his words in conversing, and added vigour to his nods.
"Only a minute."
"How long is that?"
"Well, dear, five."
"Ah, sonnies!" said the tranter, as **** retired, "'tis a talent of the female race that low numbers should stand for high, more especially in matters of waiting, matters of age, and matters of money."
"True, true, upon my body," said Geoffrey.
"Ye spak with feeling, Geoffrey, seemingly."
"Anybody that d'know my experience might guess that."
"What's she doing now, Geoffrey?"
"Claning out all the upstairs drawers and cupboards, and dusting the second-best chainey--a thing that's only done once a year. 'If there's work to be done I must do it,' says she, 'wedding or no.'"
"'Tis my belief she's a very good woman at bottom."
"She's terrible deep, then."
Mrs. Penny turned round. "Well, 'tis humps and hollers with the best of us; but still and for all that, **** and Fancy stand as fair a chance of having a bit of sunsheen as any married pair in the land."
"Ay, there's no gainsaying it."
Mrs. Dewy came up, talking to one person and looking at another.
"Happy, yes," she said. "'Tis always so when a couple is so exactly in tune with one another as **** and she."
"When they be'n't too poor to have time to sing," said grandfather James.
"I tell ye, neighbours, when the pinch comes," said the tranter:
"when the oldest daughter's boots be only a size less than her mother's, and the rest o' the flock close behind her. A sharp time for a man that, my sonnies; a very sharp time! Chanticleer's comb is a-cut then, 'a believe."
"That's about the form o't," said Mr. Penny. "That'll put the stuns upon a man, when you must measure mother and daughter's lasts to tell 'em apart."
"You've no cause to complain, Reuben, of such a close-coming flock," said Mrs. Dewy; "for ours was a straggling lot enough, God knows!"
"I d'know it, I d'know it," said the tranter. "You be a well-enough woman, Ann."
Mrs. Dewy put her mouth in the form of a smile, and put it back again without smiling.
"And if they come together, they go together," said Mrs. Penny, whose family had been the reverse of the tranter's; "and a little money will make either fate tolerable. And money can be made by our young couple, I know."
"Yes, that it can!" said the impulsive voice of Leaf, who had hitherto humbly admired the proceedings from a corner. "It can be done--all that's wanted is a few pounds to begin with. That's all!
I know a story about it!"
"Let's hear thy story, Leaf;" said the tranter. "I never knew you were clever enough to tell a story. Silence, all of ye! Mr. Leaf will tell a story."
"Tell your story, Thomas Leaf," said grandfather William in the tone of a schoolmaster.
"Once," said the delighted Leaf; in an uncertain voice, "there was a man who lived in a house! Well, this man went thinking and thinking night and day. At last, he said to himself; as I might, 'If I had only ten pound, I'd make a fortune.' At last by hook or by crook, behold he got the ten pounds!"
"Only think of that!" said Nat Callcome satirically.
"Silence!" said the tranter.
"Well, now comes the interesting part of the story! In a little time he made that ten pounds twenty. Then a little time after that he doubled it, and made it forty. Well, he went on, and a good while after that he made it eighty, and on to a hundred. Well, by-and-by he made it two hundred! Well, you'd never believe it, but--he went on and made it four hundred! He went on, and what did he do? Why, he made it eight hundred! Yes, he did," continued Leaf; in the highest pitch of excitement, bringing down his fist upon his knee with such force that he quivered with the pain; "yes, and he went on and made it A THOUSAND!"
"Hear, hear!" said the tranter. "Better than the history of England, my sonnies!"
"Thank you for your story, Thomas Leaf," said grandfather William; and then Leaf gradually sank into nothingness again.
Amid a medley of laughter, old shoes, and elder-wine, **** and his bride took their departure, side by side in the excellent new spring-cart which the young tranter now possessed. The moon was just over the full, rendering any light from lamps or their own beauties quite unnecessary to the pair. They drove slowly along Yalbury Bottom, where the road passed between two copses. **** was talking to his companion.
"Fancy," he said, "why we are so happy is because there is such full confidence between us. Ever since that time you confessed to that little flirtation with Shiner by the river (which was really no flirtation at all), I have thought how artless and good you must be to tell me o' such a trifling thing, and to be so frightened about it as you were. It has won me to tell you my every deed and word since then. We'll have no secrets from each other, darling, will we ever?--no secret at all."
"None from to-day," said Fancy. "Hark! what's that?"
From a neighbouring thicket was suddenly heard to issue in a loud, musical, and liquid voice - "Tippiwit! swe-e-et! ki-ki-ki! Come hither, come hither, come hither!"
"O, 'tis the nightingale," murmured she, and thought of a secret she would never tell.
