When she had gone, Ravenslee sat plunged in gloomy thought until roused by the sound of approaching feet with a creak of shoes, a loud, arrogant creak there was no mistaking, and the Old Un appeared followed by Joe and the Spider, the latter looking very smart in his new livery.
"Guv," said the Old Un, "best respex! 'Ere we be, come to say 'ow glad we are t' see you come up smilin' an' ready for more after Fate ketchin' ye a perishin' wallop as we all thought 'ad doubled ye up till the day o' doom. 'Ere you are, on your pins again, an' 'ere 's us come t' give ye greetin's doo an' j'y o' your marriage—shut up, Joe!"
"Why, I wasn't speakin'!" growled Joe.
"No, but you meant to—you're always meanin' to, you are. Guv," continued the Old Un, "folks is allus a-givin' an' takin' in marriage in this 'ere world, such bein' their natur'—they can't 'elp it! But never in this world nor no other was there ever sich a weddin' as yours. There was 'er so young an' fair an' full o' life, an' there was you so pale an' nigh to death—one leg in the grave—an' there was me s' full o' years an' wisdom an' sorrer for ye both—oh, my pore old bowels was fair yearnin' over ye-"
"Lord, Old Un," expostulated Joe, "you keep them bowels o' yours out of it—"
"Shut up, Joe, in your ignorance; bowels is in the Bible, an' bowels I abide by now and forever, amen! Well, there we all were, Guv, bendin' o'er your couch o' care very silent an' solemn,
"'Not a drum was 'eard, not a funereal note'
"an' there was you s' pale an' nigh t' death—"
"You said all that afore, Old Un!" growled Joe.
"You leave me alone, Joe," said the Old Un, scowling and flourishing a trembling fist, "you lemme be, or you'll be pale an' nigh t' death next. Well, there was you, Guv, an' all s' pale an' still when: ''Oo giveth this woman?' says the parson-cove very solemn. 'That's me!' says I, quick an' ready. An' so, me 'avin' 'elped t' marry you, I've brought Joe an' Spider t' wish you 'ealth an' 'appiness an' a j'y continual. Now, Joe, it's your round—speak up!"