“Michael, cartwright, at corner.”
“Is it a good match?”
“He’s got his match, and she’s got hern.”
“They are well matched, then,” said Bertha, laughing.
“They’re a pair,” said Dan, grimly. “He’s eagre, and she’s mustard; and they’ll none mix ill—but they’ll set folks’ throats a-fire as meddles wi’ ’em.”
Eagre is the old English word for vinegar, which is just “wine-eagre.” It means anything sharp and acid.
“Is Aunt Filomena pleased?” asked Avice.
“She’s never pleased wi’ nothing,” was the reply of her unfortunate husband. “She give him lots o’ sauce when he first come, and he’s had another spoonful every time since. He gives it her every bit as hot—I will say that for him. His mother went by name o’ old Maud Touchup, and he doth her no disfavour. She knew how to hit folks—she did. And Michael’s a chip o’ th’ old block.”
“A little more cabbage, Uncle Dan?”
“Nay, I thank thee. I must be going home, I reckon. Eh, but you’re peaceable here! I reckon man could sleep i’ this house, and not be waked up wi’ jarring and jangling. I tell thee what, Avice—when the big folks up to London town runs short o’ money, I wonder they don’t clap a bit of a tax on women’s tongues! It’d bring ’em in a tunful in a week, that would.”