“I wouldn't 'ave her if she asked me on 'er bended knees,” ses Ginger, holding up his 'ead.
“Nor me,” ses Peter. “You're welcome to 'er, Sam. When I think of the evenings I've wasted over a fat old woman I feel——”
“That'll do,” ses old Sam, very sharp; “that ain't the way to speak of a lady, even if she 'as said 'no.'”
“All right, Sam,” ses Ginger. “You go in and win if you think you're so precious clever.”
Old Sam said that that was wot 'e was going to do, and he spent so much time next morning making 'imself look pretty that the other two could 'ardly be civil to him.
He went off a'most direckly arter breakfast, and they didn't see 'im agin till twelve o'clock that night. He 'ad brought a bottle o' whisky in with 'im, and he was so 'appy that they see plain wot had 'appened.
“She said 'yes' at two o'clock in the arternoon,” ses old Sam, smiling, arter they had 'ad a glass apiece. “I'd nearly done the trick at one o'clock, and then the shop-bell went, and I 'ad to begin all over agin. Still, it wasn't unpleasant.”
“Do you mean to tell us you've asked 'er to marry you?” ses Ginger, 'olding out 'is glass to be filled agin.
“I do,” ses Sam; “but I 'ope there's no ill-feeling. You never 'ad a chance, neither of you; she told me so.”
Ginger Dick and Peter Russet stared at each other.