“Well, I went over to the Squire’s, pretty well satisfied in my own mind; so, after flattering and crowing about her a little while, I up and shew the cloven foot. “Sally,” says I, “will you take me for better or worser?” This put her to considering, and I gave a flourishing about the room, and cut a carly-cue with my right foot, as much as to say, “Take your own time.” At last, says she, “I’d as liv’s have you as anybody in the world, John, but—I declare I can’t.” “You can’t, ha! And why?” “Cause—” “Cause what?” “Cause I can’t, and that’s enough. I would in a minute, John, but for only one reason, and that I’m afraid to tell ye.” “Poh, poh!” says I, “don’t be bashful. If there’s only one stump in the way, I guess here’s a fellow—” “Well, then, look tother way, John; I can’t speak if you look at me.” “O, yes; there, now’s your time,” says I, with a flert. “The reason is—Joe Bowers, the stage-driver. Now, you shan’t tell nobody, John, will ye?” Who would have thought this of Sally Jones! It seemed to me the very Old Boy had got into the women: they fairly put me to nonplush! All this time, my popularity with the ladies was amazing. To see them flattering and soft-soaping me all at once, you would have sworn I had nothing to do but pick and choose. I had as much gallantry to do as I wanted everywhere; and for politeness and gentility I never turned my back to no man. Then they were so thick and familiar with me, that they didn’t care what they said or did before me; and, finally, whenever they had errands or chores to, who but I was the favourite bird to fetch and carry? I was for ever and ever racing and cantering from post to pillar, to do their bidding. Rain or shine, snow or mud, nothing stopping me; and, I may say, I fairly earned their smiles by the sweat of my brow. Then it was, “O, Mr. Beedle! what should we do without Mr. Beedle!” But when I caught one alone, and began to touch upon the matrimonial sentiments, then how quick the tune was changed! O, the ways of women are curious!