“But you don’t mean it, do you?” she said, lifting to him her face that was round and glossy like a blackheart cherry. For answer, he unfolded the marriage licence. She read it, and turned aside her face in confusion, saying: “Well, I’ve got to get ready. Shall you come an’ tell Gran’ma?” “Is there any need?” he answered reluctantly. “Yes, you come an tell ’er,” persuaded Meg. He got down from the trap. I preferred to stay out of doors. Presently Meg ran out with a glass of beer for me. “We shan’t be many minutes,” she apologised. “I’ve on’y to slip another frock on.” I heard George go heavily up the stairs and enter the room over the bar-parlour, where the grandmother lay bed-ridden. “What, is it thaïgh, ma lad? What are thaïgh doin’ ’ere this mornin’?” she asked. “Well A’nt, how does ta feel by now?” he said. “Eh, sadly, lad, sadly! It’ll not be long afore they carry me downstairs head first——” “Nay, dunna thee say so!—I’m just off to Nottingham—I want Meg ter come.” “What for?” cried the old woman sharply. “I wanted ’er to get married,” he replied. “What! What does’t say? An’ what about th’ licence, an’ th’ ring, an ivrything?” “I’ve seen to that all right,” he answered. “Well, tha ’rt a nice’st un, I must say! What’s want goin’ in this pig-in-a-poke fashion for? This is a nice shabby trick to serve a body! What does ta mean by it?” “You knowed as I wor goin’ ter marry ’er directly, so I can’t see as it matters o’ th’ day. I non wanted a’ th’ pub talkin’——” “Tha ’rt mighty particklar, an’ all, an’ all! An’ why shouldn’t the pub talk? Tha ’rt non marryin’ a nigger, as ta should be so frightened—I niver thought it on thee!—An’ what’s thy ’orry, all of a sudden?” “No hurry as I know of.” “No ’orry——!” replied the old lady, with withering sarcasm. “Tha wor niver in a ’orry a’ thy life! She’s non commin’ wi’ thee this day, though.” He laughed, also sarcastic. The old lady was angry. She poured on him her abuse, declaring she would not have Meg in the house again, nor leave her a penny, if she married him that day. “Tha can please thysen,” answered George, also angry. Meg came hurriedly into the room. “Ta’e that ’at off—ta’e it off! Tha non goos wi’ ’im this day, not if I know it! Does ’e think tha ’rt a cow, or a pig, to be fetched wheniver ’e thinks fit. Ta’e that ’at off, I say!” The old woman was fierce and peremptory. “But gran’ma!——” began Meg. The bed creaked as the old lady tried to rise. “Ta’e that ’at off, afore I pull it off!” she cried. “Oh, be still Gran’ma—you’ll be hurtin’ yourself, you know you will——” “Are you coming Meg?” said George suddenly. “She is not!” cried the old woman. “Are you coming Meg?” repeated George, in a passion. Meg began to cry. I suppose she looked at him through her tears. The next thing I heard was a cry from the old woman, and the sound of staggering feet.