Visits and Sketches at Home and Abroad with Tales and Miscellanies Now First Collected Volume III Part 9

d.i.c.k! d.i.c.k! what a noise you do keep!

d.i.c.k.

A noise, eh? Why, Meg, you didn't use to think it a noise: you used to like to hear me sing!

MARGERY--(_entering._)

And so I did, and so I do. I loves music with all my heart; but the whole parish will hear you if you go for to bawl out so monstrous loud.

d.i.c.k.

And let them! who cares?

[_He sings, she laughs._

MARGERY.

Nay, sing away if you like it!

d.i.c.k--(_stopping suddenly._)

I won't sing another bit if you don't like it, Meg.

MARGERY.

Oh, I do like! Lord bless us! not like it! it sounds so merry! Why, d.i.c.k, love, every body said yesterday that you sung as well as Mr.

Thingumee at Sadler's Wells, and says they, "Who is that young man as sings like any nightingale?" and I says (_drawing herself up_), "That's my husband!"

d.i.c.k.

Ay! flummery!--But, Meg, I say, how did you like the wedding yesterday?

MARGERY.

Oh, hugeously! such heaps of smart people, as fine as fivepence, I warrant; and such gay gowns and caps! and plenty to eat and drink!--But what I liked best was the walking in the gardens at Bagnigge Wells, and the tea, and the crumpets!

d.i.c.k.

And the punch!

MARGERY.

Yes--ha! ha! I could see you thought _that_ good! and then the dancing!

d.i.c.k.

Ay, ay; and there wasn't one amongst them that footed it away like my Margery. And folks says to me, "Pray, who is that pretty modest young woman as hops over the ground as light as a feather?" says they; and says I, "Why, that there pretty young woman is my wife, to be sure!"

MARGERY.

Ah, you're at your jokes, d.i.c.k!

d.i.c.k.

I'll be hanged then!

MARGERY--(_leaning on his shoulder._)

Well, to be sure, we were happy yesterday. It's good to make holiday just now and then, but some how I was very glad to come home to our own little room again. O d.i.c.k!--did you mind that Mrs. Pinchtoe, that gave herself such grand airs?--she in the fine lavender silk gown--that turned up her nose at me so, and all because she's a master shoemaker's wife! and you are only--only--a cobbler!--(_sighs_) I wish _you_ were a master shoemaker, d.i.c.k.

d.i.c.k.

That you might be a master shoemaker's wife, hay! and turn up your nose like Mrs. Pinchtoe?

MARGERY--(_laughing._)

No, no; I have more manners.

d.i.c.k.

Would you love me better, Meg, if I were a master shoemaker?

MARGERY.

No, I couldn't love you better if you were a king; and that you know, d.i.c.k; and, after all, we're happy now, and who knows what might be if he were to change?

d.i.c.k.

Ay, indeed! who knows? you might grow into a fine lady like she over the way, who comes home o'nights just as we're getting up in the morning, with the flams flaring, and blazing like any thing; and that puts me in mind----

MARGERY.

Of what, d.i.c.k? tell me!

d.i.c.k.

Why, cousin Tom's wedding put it all out of my head last night; but yesterday there comes over to me one of those fine bedizened fellows we see lounging about the door there, with a c.o.c.ked hat, and things like stay laces dangling at his shoulder.

MARGERY.

What could he want, I wonder!

d.i.c.k.

O! he comes over to me as I was just standing at the door below, a thinking of nothing at all, and singing Paddy O'Raffety to myself, and says he to me, "You cobbler fellor," says he, "don't you go for to keep such a bawling every morning, awakening people out of their first sleep," says he, "for if you do, my lord will have you put into the stocks," says he.

MARGERY.

The stocks! O goodness gracious me! and what for, pray?