"She's at the public-house good three miles from here, Sally. She said to me as we were coming along, 'That is a point on which I differ from you.' Some point on which we were speaking. So I stopped, and looked her in the face, and I said to her, 'Mrs. Chowne, I never allow any one outside my house to differ from me, and not everlastingly repent it afterwards. And I won't allow any one inside my house to differ from me. So you can remain at this tavern and turn the matter over in your mind. If you intend to have no will of your own, and no opinion other than mine, then you can walk on at your leisure to Blackamoor. If not, you can turn back and go home to where you came from. Nobody expects you at Blackamoor, and nobody wants you there. So you are heartily welcome to keep away. So--serve the dinner, Sally, for _one_." An hour and a half later the bride arrived on foot, forlorn and humbled, and met with an ungracious reception from Sally. Sally had the pig that had been promised her killed, cut up, and sold. After a while Chowne suspected that she was still keeping company with Joe. He was very angry, for he felt that he had been done out of the pig on false pretences; so he went off with his wife to stay with Parson Hannaford, and gave out he would not return for a week. On the second evening, however, he suddenly returned, and came bounding in at the door; and sure enough Joe was there, come courting, and to eat his supper with Sally. The housekeeper, hearing the tread of her master, bade Joe fly and get out of his reach. But the back-door was fastened, and Joe, in his alarm, jumped into the copper. Sally put the lid on, and dashed into the passage to meet her master. "Where's Joe? I'm sure he's here. You've cut too much of my ham to fry for yourself alone. You've drawn too much ale. I'm sure Joe is here!" shouted Chowne, looking about him. "Deary life, sir!" exclaimed the housekeeper, "I protest! I don't know where he can be. Why, master, you know I gave him up for the sake of the pig." Chowne's eye wandered about the kitchen, and noticed--what was unusual--the lid on the copper in the adjoining back-kitchen, that served also as laundry. "Sally," said he, "put some water into the copper to boil. I'm going to dip the pups. They've got the mange." "Ain't there enough in the kettle, master?" "No, there is not. Put water into the copper." Accordingly Sally was forced to fill a can at the pump, and pour water into the copper over her lover, removing for the purpose only a corner of the cover. "There, master. Do'y let me serve you up some supper, and I'll get the water heated after." "No," said Chowne, "I'll stand here till it boils. Shove in some browse" (light firewood). Reluctantly the browse was put in under the cauldron, and was lighted. It flared up. "Now some hard wood, Sally," said the parson. Still more reluctantly were sawn logs inserted. A moment after up went the copper lid, and out scrambled Joe, hot and dripping.