“And so am I,” said the four bridesmaids with much sympathy.
“Well, bees can’t be put off,” observed the inharmonious grandfather James. “Marrying a woman is a thing you can do at any moment; but a swarm o’ bees won’t come for the asking.”
Dick fanned himself with his hat. “I can’t think,” he said thoughtfully, “whatever ’twas I did to offend Mr. Maybold, a man I like so much too. He rather took to me when he came first, and used to say he should like to see me married, and that he’d marry me, whether the young woman I chose lived in his parish or no. I just hinted to him of it when I put in the banns, but he didn’t seem to take kindly to the notion now, and so I said no more. I wonder how it was.”
“I wonder!” said Fancy, looking into vacancy with those beautiful eyes of hers—too refined and beautiful for a tranter’s wife; but, perhaps, not too good.
“Altered his mind, as folks will, I suppose,” said the tranter. “Well, my sonnies, there’ll be a good strong party looking at us to-day as we go along.”
“And the body of the church,” said Geoffrey, “will be lined with females, and a row of young fellers’ heads, as far down as the eyes, will be noticed just above the sills of the chancel-winders.”
“Ay, you’ve been through it twice,” said Reuben, “and well mid know.”
“I can put up with it for once,” said Dick, “or twice either, or a dozen times.”
“O Dick!” said Fancy reproachfully.
“Why, dear, that’s nothing,—only just a bit of a flourish. You be as nervous as a cat to-day.”