Why should we not merry, merry be
When we're met together?
He brandished his tobacco-pipe over his head, in so doing striking his wig with the stem, and at once breaking the latter, and thrusting the wig over his ear, and then dived into the alehouse again. He was half tipsy.
"You are right," said Elizabeth to Urith. "You must go on. Your mother is anxious, probably in a state of serious alarm."
"My uncle's horse is in the stable, I doubt not," answered Urith, "and as he will not be disposed to leave till he be unfit to accompany me, I will borrow the horse, and send it back by a servant."
"I will accompany you," said Elizabeth, "and the serving man that brings back the horse can accompany me. The distance is inconsiderable, yet you must not at night travel it alone. Fox and Julian have, I see, turned their horses' heads homewards without bidding us a farewell. I cannot stay outside whilst Anthony is within, and I do not care to enter when men are drinking."
"Your brother will hardly leave you alone outside."
"My brother will probably forget all about me when he gets with Mr. Gibbs and others who can sing a good song and tell a merry tale."
She said this without any reproach in her tone. She was so accustomed to be neglected, forgotten, to find herself thrust aside by her brother, that she no longer felt unhappy about it; she accepted it as her due.