'goin'
empty-'anded into that 'ouse. I know old Mother Jarvis--a cat: we'd
best tell the child, p'raps she won't marry 'im if she knows she's
nothing to take to 'im,' and, God forgive me, my 'eart jumped up at
the thought.

'No, best leave it be,' says my old man, 'they're fair sweet on each
other.'

And so the next morning we all went up to the church, me cryin' all
the way as if it was 'er buryin' we was a-goin' to and not 'er
marryin'. The parson was at the church and a lot of folks as knew
us, us 'avin' bin in those parts so long; but none of the
bridegroom's people was there, nor yet the bridegroom.

And we waited and we waited, my Pretty as pale as a snowdrop in her
white bonnet. And when it was a hour past the time, Tom, 'e ups and
says out loud in the church, for all the parson and me said ''Ush!'
'I'm goin' back 'ome,' says 'e; 'there won't be no weddin' to-day;
'e shan't 'ave 'er now,' says my old man, 'not if 'e comes to fetch
'er in a coach and six cram full of bank-notes,' says 'e.

And with that 'e catches 'old of Mary in one and and me in the
other, and turns to go out of church, and at the door, who should we
meet but old Mother Jarvis, 'er that I'd called a cat in my wicked
spite only the day before. The tears was runnin' down her fat
cheeks, and as soon as she saw my Pretty, she caught 'er in 'er arms
and 'ugged 'er like as if she'd been 'er own. 'God forgive 'im,'
says she, 'I never could, for all he's my own son. He's gone off for
a soldier, and 'e left a letter sayin' you wasn't to think any more
of 'im, for 'e wasn't a marryin' man.'

'It's that dam money,' says my goodman, forgettin' 'e was in church;
'that was all 'e wanted, but it ain't what he'll get,' says 'e. 'You
keep 'im out of my way, for it 'ull be the worse for 'im if 'e comes
within the reach of my fisties.'

And with that we went along 'ome, the three of us. And the sun kept
a-shinin' just as if there was nothin' wrong, and the skylarks
a-singin' up in the blue sky till I would a-liked to wring their
necks for them.

And we 'ad to go on up and down the river as usual, for it was our
livin', you see, and we couldn't get away from the place where
everybody knew the slight that had been put upon my Pretty. You'd
think p'raps that was as bad as might be, but it wasn't the worst.

We was beginnin' June then, and by the end of August I knew that
what my Pretty 'ad gone through at the church was nothin' to what
she'd got to go th