This strange pair had what seemed to Patty boundless funds for their week in town. Twenty pounds over of Aunt Patience’s gift after paying the expenses of the marriage, had seemed enough for the wildest desires; but when there was added to that twenty pounds more, his mother’s last gift to Gervase, she felt that their wealth was fabulous; far, far too much to expend upon personal pleasure or sightseeing. She permitted herself to buy a dress or two, choosing those which were ready made, and of which she could see the effect at once, both on herself and the elegant young lady who sold them to her; and she put aside a ten-pound note carefully, in case of any emergency. On the whole, however, it was a relief to both parties when they went home, though it took some trouble to convince Gervase that he could not go back to the Manor, leaving his wife at the Seven Thorns. He was not pleased to be told that he too must go and live at the Seven Thorns: “Why, that’s what mother said--and draw the beer!” he cried; “but nothing shall make me draw the beer,” cried Gervase. “Nobody asked you,” Patty said, “you goose. We’re going to live in the west rooms, a beautiful set of rooms that I put all ready, where there’s a nice sofa for you to lie on, and nice windows to look out of and see everything that comes along the road--not like Greyshott, where you never see nothing--the carts and the carriages and the vans going to the fairs, and Punch and Judy, and I can’t tell you all what.” “Well,” said Gervase, “you can stay there, and I’ll come to see you every day; but I must go home.” “What, leave me! and us but a week married!” cried Patty. She made him falter in his resolution, confused with the idea of an arrangement of affairs unfamiliar to him, and at last induced him to consent to go to the Seven Thorns with her on conditions, strenuously insisted upon, that he was not to be made to draw beer. But Gervase did not feel easy on this subject, even when he was taken by the new side-door into the separate suite of apartments which Patty had prepared with so much trouble. When old Hewitt appeared he took care to entrench himself behind his wife. “I’ll have nothing to do with the beer or the customers, mind you,” he cried nervously. Nobody, however, made any account of Gervase in that wonderful moment of Patty’s return. “What! it’s you as is the new married couple? and you’ve gone and married _’im_?” cried Hewitt, with a tone of indescribable contempt. “Yes, father! and I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head; I’ve married him, and I mean to take care of him,” Patty cried, tossing her head.