‘on which I can be said to have made up my mind more than on another, it is to Put suicide Down. So don’t try it on. That’s the phrase, isn’t it? Ha, ha! now we understand each other.’ Toby knew not whether to be agonised or glad, to see that Meg had turned a deadly white, and dropped her lover’s hand. ‘And as for you, you dull dog,’ said the Alderman, turning with even increased cheerfulness and urbanity to the young smith, ‘what are you thinking of being married for? What do you want to be married for, you silly fellow? If I was a fine, young, strapping chap like you, I should be ashamed of being milksop enough to pin myself to a woman’s apron-strings! Why, she’ll be an old woman before you’re a middle-aged man! And a pretty figure you’ll cut then, with a draggle-tailed wife and a crowd of squalling children crying after you wherever you go!’ O, he knew how to banter the common people, Alderman Cute! ‘There! Go along with you,’ said the Alderman, ‘and repent. Don’t make such a fool of yourself as to get married on New Year’s Day. You’ll think very differently of it, long before next New Year’s Day: a trim young fellow like you, with all the girls looking after you. There! Go along with you!’ They went along. Not arm in arm, or hand in hand, or interchanging bright glances; but, she in tears; he, gloomy and down-looking. Were these the hearts that had so lately made old Toby’s leap up from its faintness? No, no. The Alderman (a blessing on his head!) had Put _them_ Down. ‘As you happen to be here,’ said the Alderman to Toby, ‘you shall carry a letter for me. Can you be quick? You’re an old man.’ Toby, who had been looking after Meg, quite stupidly, made shift to murmur out that he was very quick, and very strong. ‘How old are you?’ inquired the Alderman. ‘I’m over sixty, sir,’ said Toby. ‘O! This man’s a great deal past the average age, you know,’ cried Mr. Filer breaking in as if his patience would bear some trying, but this really was carrying matters a little too far. ‘I feel I’m intruding, sir,’ said Toby. ‘I—I misdoubted it this morning. Oh dear me!’ The Alderman cut him short by giving him the letter from his pocket. Toby would have got a shilling too; but Mr. Filer clearly showing that in that case he would rob a certain given number of persons of ninepence-halfpenny a-piece, he only got sixpence; and thought himself very well off to get that. Then the Alderman gave an arm to each of his friends, and walked off in high feather; but, he immediately came hurrying back alone, as if he had forgotten something. ‘Porter!’ said the Alderman. ‘Sir!’ said Toby. ‘Take care of that daughter of yours. She’s much too handsome.’ ‘Even her good looks are stolen from somebody or other, I suppose,’ thought Toby, looking at the sixpence in his hand, and thinking of the tripe. ‘She’s been and robbed five hundred ladies of a bloom a-piece, I shouldn’t wonder. It’s very dreadful!’