ither Mr. Southey--that is the Registrar--nor Mr. Freeman--that's
the Assistant-Registrar--has yet arrived, sir."

"It is very extraordinary they should be late. Do they never keep
their appointments?"

"They rarely arrives before ten, sir."

"Before ten! What time is it now?"

"Only just ten. I am the regular attendant. I'll see yer through it;
no necessity to hagitate yerself. It will be done quietly in a
private room--a very nice room too, fourteen feet by ten high--them's
the regulations; all the chairs covered with leather; a very nice
comfortable room. Would yer like to see the room? Would yer like to
sit down there and wait? There's a party to be married before you.
But they won't mind you. He's a butcher by trade."

"And what is she?"

"I think she's a tailoress; they lives close by here, they do."

"And who are you, and where do you live?"

"I'm the regular attendant; I lives close by here."

"Where close by?"

"In the work'us; they gives me this work to do."

"Oh, you are a pauper, then?"

"Yease; but I works here; I'm the regular attendant. No need to be
afraid, sir; it's all done in a private room; no one will see you.
This way, sir; this way."

The sinister aspect of things never appealed to Frank, and he was
vastly amused at the idea of the pauper Mercury, and had begun to
turn the subject over, seeing how he could use it for a queer story
for the _Pilgrim_. But time soon grew horribly long, and to kill it
he volunteered to act as witness to the butcher's marriage, one being
wanted. The effects of a jovial night, fortified by some matutinal
potations, were still visible in the small black eyes of the rubicund
butcher--a huge man, apparently of cheery disposition; he swung to
and fro before the shiny oak table as might one of his own carcasses.
His bride, a small-featured woman, wrapped in a plaid shawl,
evidently fearing that his state, if perceived by the Registrar,
might cause a postponement of her wishes, strove to shield him. His
pal and a stout girl, with the air of the coffee-shop about her,
exchanged winks and grins, and at the critical moment, when the
Registrar was about to read the declaration, the pal slipped behind
some friends and, catching the bridegroom by the collar, whispered,
"Now then, old man, pull yourself together." The Registrar
looked up, but his spectacles did not appear to help him; the
Assistant-Registrar, a tall, languid young man, who wore a carnation
in his b