"And I'll make you pay dear for it, if there's law in the land," said Tom.
"Poh, poh! don't make a fool of yourself," said Scatterly.
"I don't mean to," answered the gardener, dryly.
"You're not seriously offended at the innocent liberty I took?"
"Yes I be," said Tom.
"Well, if you view it in that light," answered Scatterly, "I shall feel bound to make you reparation. You shall have a kiss from my bride, when I'm married."
"That you never will be."
"I must confess," said Scatterly, laughing, "the prospect of repayment seems rather distant. But who knows what will happen? I may not die a bachelor, after all. And if I marry—I repeat it, my dear fellow—you shall have a kiss from my wife."
"No he shan't," said Phebe. "He shall kiss nobody but me."
"Yes he shall," said Scatterly. "Have you got pen, ink, and paper, Tom?"