“Hot, I say.”
“Well,” said the conductor; “when I makes up my mind again, and the parsons ain’t so busy, I shall have the missus cross-examined.”
“What for, Joey?”
“So as to see as she ain’t a big-a-mee.”
Revitts, who was drinking all this in, looked very serious here, as if the conversation was tending towards official matters. Perhaps it occurred to him that he had not cross-examined Mary before he was married; but he began to smile again soon after, for the conductor took a very battered old copper key-bugle from a basket on the roof, and, after a few preliminary toots, began to rattle off “The Wedding-Day.” The driver shook the reins, the four horses broke into a canter, and as we swept past the green hedgerows and market-gardens, with here and there a pretty villa, I began to enjoy the ride, longing all the same, though, for Revitts and Mary to begin to talk, instead of smiling at each other in such a horribly happy way, and indulging in what was meant for a secret squeeze of the hand, but which was, however, generally seen by half the passengers.
The air coming to an end, and the bugle being duly drained, wiped, and returned to its basket, the driver turned his head again:
“Nice toon that, Joey.”
“Like it?”
“Ah, I was going to say ‘hangcore,’ on’y we’re so clost to Richmond. What was it—‘Weddin’ Day’?”
“That’s right, old man.”