“A week,” said Pete, with the air of a judge; “not much less anyway—not of a rule, you know.”
“You goose,” cried Nancy, “it must be three Sundays for the banns.”
“Then John the Clerk shall get them going this evening,” said Pete. “Nancy had the pull of me there, Grannie. Not being in the habit of getting married, I clane forgot about the banns.”
John the Clerk came in the afternoon, and there was some lusty disputation.
“We must have bridesmaids and wedding-cakes, Pete—it's only proper,” said Nancy.
“Aw, yes, and tobacco and rum, and everything respectable,” said Pete.
“And the parson—mind it's the parson now,” said Grannie; “none of their nasty high-bailiffs. I don't know in the world how a dacent woman can rest in her bed——”
“Aw, the parson, of coorse—and the parson's wife, maybe,” said Pete.
“I think I can manage it for you for to-morrow fortnight,” said John the Clerk impressively, and there was some clapping of hands, quickly suppressed by Cæsar, with mutterings of—
“Popery! clane Popery, sir! Can't a person commit matrimony without a parson bothering a man?”