“Nay, sir,” said Gerard; “I am too young to advise my seniors and betters.”
“No matter. Let us hear your thought.”
“Well, sir, it was said of a good wife by the ancients, 'bene quae latuit, bene vixit,' that is, she is the best wife that is least talked of: but here 'male quae patuit' were as near the mark. Therefore, an you bear the lass good-will, why not club purses with Denys and me and convey her safe home with a dowry? Then mayhap some rustical person in her own place may be brought to wife her.”
“Why so many words?” said Denys. “This old fox is not the ass he affects to be.”
“Oh! that is your advice, is it?” said the landlord testily. “Well then we shall soon know who is the fool, you or me, for I have spoken to her as it happens; and what is more, she has said Ay, and she is polishing the flagons at this moment.”
“Oho!” said Denys drily, “'twas an ambuscade. Well, in that case, my advice is, run for the notary, tie the noose, and let us three drink the bride's health, till we see six sots a-tippling.”
“And shall. Ay, now you utter sense.”
In ten minutes a civil marriage was effected upstairs before a notary and his clerk and our two friends.
In ten minutes more the white hind, dead sick of seclusion, had taken her place within the bar, and was serving out liquids, and bustling, and her colour rising a little.
In six little minutes more she soundly rated a careless servant-girl for carrying a nipperkin of wine awry and spilling good liquor.