_The Bridegroom_ (_scratching his head_). There be a mort o’ voine words, but I zuppose you means to zay as how this General Reason be a Methody preacher; but I be’s true earthy-ducks church, and zo be Zukey: bean’t you, Zukey? _The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. _The Bridegroom._ And we has nothing to do wi’ General Reason neither on us. Has we, Zukey? _The Bride._ No, zure, Robin. _Mr. Fax._ Well, my friend, be that as it may, you are going to be married? _The Bridegroom._ Why, I think zo, zur, wi’ General Reason’s leave. Bean’t we, Zukey? _The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. _Mr. Fax._ And are you fully aware, my honest friend, what marriage is? _The Bridegroom._ Vor zartin I be: Zukey and I ha’ got it by heart out o’ t’ Book o’ Common Prayer. Ha’n’t we, Zukey? (_This time Susan did not think proper to answer._) It be ordained that zuch persons as hav’n’t the gift of——(_Susan gave him such a sudden and violent pinch on the arm, that his speech ended in a roar_). Od rabbit me! that wur a twinger! I’ll have my revenge, howzomecomedever. (_And he imprinted a very emphatical kiss on the lips of his blushing bride that greatly scandalised Mr. Fax._) _Mr. Fax._ Do you know, that in all likelihood, in the course of six years, you will have as many children? _The Bridegroom._ The more the merrier, zur. Bean’t it, Zukey? (_Susan was mute again._) _Mr. Fax._ I hope it may prove so, my friend; but I fear you will find the more the sadder. What are your occupations? _The Bridegroom._ Anan, zur? [Illustration: ‘_Do you know, that in all likelihood, in the course of six years, you will have as many children?_’] _Mr. Fax._ What do you do to get your living? _The Bridegroom._ Works vor Varmer Brownstout: zows and reaps, threshes, and goes to market wi’ corn and cattle, turns to plough-tail when hap chances, cleans and feeds horses, hedges and ditches, fells timber, gathers in t’ orchard, brews ale, and drinks it, and gets vourteen shill’n’s a week for my trouble. And Zukey here ha’ laid up a mint o’ money: she wur dairymaid at Varmer Cheesecurd’s, and ha’ gotten vour pounds zeventeen shill’n’s and ninepence in t’ old chest wi’ three vlat locks and a padlock. Ha’n’t you, Zukey? _The Bride._ Ees, zure, Robin. _Mr. Fax._ It does not appear to me, my worthy friend, that your fourteen shillings a week, even with Mrs. Susan’s consolidated fund of four pounds seventeen shillings and ninepence, will be altogether adequate to the maintenance of such a family as you seem likely to have. _The Bridegroom._ Why, sir, in t’ virst pleace I doan’t know what be Zukey’s intentions in that respect——Od rabbit it, Zukey! doan’t pinch zo——and in t’ next pleace, wi’ all due submission to you and General Reason the Methody preacher, I takes it to be our look-out, and none o’ nobody’s else. _Mr. Fax._ But it is somebody’s else, for this reason; that if you cannot maintain your own children, the parish must do it for you.