When he came down again he found Martha in the midst of her cronies, to whom she had imparted, with a kind of regretful elation, the extreme pressure which William had brought to bear upon her with regard to their approaching nuptials, all her hearers being much impressed and edified by the recital. She turned to her lover as he was about to leave the house:-- “Ye’ll not be chargin’ me nothin’, I shouldn’t think,” she remarked with mournful archness. William, who had not hitherto considered the matter, hesitated for a moment, and then observed handsomely:-- “Nothin’ but the price of the wood, my dear. You shall have the labour free.” “Lard bless the man!” cried she, with some irritation. “I believe he’s goin’ to make out a bill for it. Why, don’t ye see, William, if we’re to be man an’ wife in three-week, ’twill be but takin’ the money out o’ one pocket to put it in the other?” “And that’s true,” agreed the friends in chorus. After a pause, during which the carpenter had thoroughly mastered the situation, he turned to his intended, and, with a sudden burst of generosity, informed her that he would make her a present of the whole thing. “I haven’t gied you so very much afore now,” said he, “but I’ll make you a present of this, my dear, an’ welcome.” And he walked away, while Martha, looking after him through her tears, observed that there wasn’t a better-natured man in the whole of England. William, indeed, was in such good humour at the approaching fruition of his hopes that Martha found him more amenable than ever to her views. Therefore, when, a day or two after the funeral, she encountered him on his way to the tailor’s, where he intended, as he informed her, to order his wedding-suit, she was emboldened to lay her hand on his arm and beseech him tearfully to be married, like her, in “deep”. “’Twill show proper feelin’,” said she. “All the neighbours ’ull know that you are showin’ respect to poor father; an’ since ye’ll be jist comin’ into the family, ’twill be but decent as you should wear black for him what’s gone.” William, who had been dreaming of a certain imposing stripe which had dazzled him, days before, in the tailor’s window, among the pile labelled “Elegant Trouserings,” now dismissed with a sigh the alluring vision, and promised to appear in mourning as requested. But when later on Martha unfolded to him another plan, he gave in his adherence to it with some reluctance. It was no less a proposition than that they should take their honeymoon by turns. “You see,” she explained, “it just falls out that the weddin’s the very week o’ the Branston show--the house ’ull be full from morn till night for three days or more; an’ we turn over enough that week to pay the year’s rent, very near. ’Twouldn’t do for us both to be away.” William gazed at her with a more rueful face than she had ever yet beheld in him.