Peter groaned.
“Now don’t make that noise here,” cried Keziah snappishly. “If you can’t behave yourself, you’d better go.”
“I won’t do so any more, dear,” said Peter softly. “How’s poor dear Miss May?”
“O, don’t ask me—poor lamb!” cried Keziah.
“It is to be, isn’t it?” said Peter.
“To be! Yes. They’ve talked her into it, now that your fine Mr Marr has proved himself such a good-for-nothing. It’s to be, sure enough, and I wish them all joy of what they’ve done. They’re killing her between them, and then they’ll be happy. Get married! There, don’t drive me wild, Peter Pash, but be off out of my sight, for I hate the very sound of the word, and don’t you come here any more till I ask you.”
Peter Pash groaned; and then rising he departed in a very disconsolate state of mind, for he considered himself to be far more worthy of pity than May Richards.