O’WALKER. Isn’t it a remarkable fact, that people no sooner get under cover out of the rain than they immediately congregate in a dense mass to prevent other people getting under cover out of the rain—I don’t know why they should, but they do! Here’s a day! never mind, I’ve no doubt the country wants rain, the turnips especially: somehow or other, turnips always seem to want rain—I don’t know why they should, but they do! and if they do, all I can say is, they’ve got it—consequently, it’s all for the best; and although my new twelve-and-ninepenny boots do feel for all the world like a couple of wet sponges, I think of the agricultural interest and am silent.
The BEADLE here approaches, and touching his hat to O’WALKER, points to his open umbrella, and then walks on.
O’WALKER. (astonished) Now, that man evidently means something; he wouldn’t touch his hat to me for nothing—I don’t know why he shouldn’t, but he wouldn’t!
BEADLE again approaches O’WALKER, R., points to his open umbrella, smiles, touches his hat, and about to retire.
O’WALKER. (beckons to him) My good friend, perhaps I ought to know you? you may have been the cherished companion of my childhood, or the friend of my bosom in after years? if so, I’m ashamed to say I’ve forgotten you—now, what is it?
BEADLE. Umbrella, sir!
O’WALKER. Well?
BEADLE. Don’t rain here, sir—under cover, sir—needn’t keep it up, sir!
O’WALKER. (suddenly) Of course—ha! ha! ha! As you say, it doesn’t rain here—I don’t know why it shouldn’t, but it doesn’t! I’m obliged to you. (shutting up his umbrella) The fact is, I’ve so much to think of I really haven’t time to think of anything. In the first place, I’m going to be married—that’s a trifle to begin with, isn’t it? Are you married? (BEADLE nods) And how do you like it? Is matrimony an article you approve of in the long run? In short—do you recommend it?
BEADLE. (in a low tone and with a significant wink) Try it!