“To be sure, brother.”
“And who is he, in the name of wonder?”
“Who is he? why Sylvester, to be sure.”
“I do assure you, Ursula, that I feel disposed to be angry with you; such a handsome young woman as yourself to take up with such a nasty pepper-faced good-for-nothing . . .”
“I won’t hear my husband abused, brother; so you had better say no more.”
“Why, is he not the Lazarus of the gypsies? has he a penny of his own, Ursula?”
“Then the more his want, brother, of a clever chi like me to take care of him and his childer. I tell you what, brother, I will chore, [{318}] if necessary, and tell dukkerin for Sylvester, if even so heavy as scarcely to be able to stand. You call him lazy; you would not think him lazy if you were in a ring with him; he is a proper man with his hands: Jasper is going to back him for twenty pounds against Slammocks of the Chong gav, the brother of Roarer and Bell-metal; he says he has no doubt that he will win.”
“Well, if you like him, I, of course, can have no objection. Have you been long married?”
“About a fortnight, brother; that dinner, the other day, when I sang the song, was given in celebration of the wedding.”
“Were you married in a church, Ursula?”