but a poor third man, I. The Lord
have mercy upon the fourth!... Ay, Teddy's got his own at last. What
little white ears that maid hev, to be sure! choose your wife as you
choose your pig--a small ear and a small tale--that was always my joke
when I was a merry feller, ah--years agone now! But Teddy's got her.
Poor chap, he was getten as thin as a hermit wi' grief--so was she.'

'Maybe she'll pick up now.'

'True--'tis nater's law, which no man shall gainsay. Ah, well do I bear
in mind what I said to Pa'son Raunham, about thy mother's family o'
seven, Gad, the very first week of his comen here, when I was just in my
prime. "And how many daughters has that poor Weedy got, clerk?" he says.
"Six, sir," says I, "and every one of 'em has a brother!" "Poor woman,"
says he, "a dozen children!--give her this half-sovereign from me,
clerk." 'A laughed a good five minutes afterwards, when he found out my
merry nater--'a did. But there, 'tis over wi' me now. Enteren the Church
is the ruin of a man's wit for wit's nothen without a faint shadder o'
sin.'

'If so be Teddy and the lady had been kept apart for life, they'd both
ha' died,' said Gad emphatically.

'But now instead o' death there'll be increase o' life,' answered the
clerk.

'It all went proper well,' said the fifth bell-ringer. 'They didn't flee
off to Babylonish places--not they.' He struck up an attitude--'Here's
Master Springrove standen so: here's the married woman standen likewise;
here they d'walk across to Knapwater House; and there they d'bide in the
chimley corner, hard and fast.'

'Yes, 'twas a pretty wedden, and well attended,' added the clerk. 'Here
was my lady herself--red as scarlet: here was Master Springrove, looken
as if he half wished he'd never a-come--ah, poor souls!--the men always
do! The women do stand it best--the maid was in her glory. Though she
was so shy the glory shone plain through that shy skin. Ah, it did
so's.'

'Ay,' said Gad, 'and there was Tim Tankins and his five journeymen
carpenters, standen on tiptoe and peepen in at the chancel winders.
There was Dairyman Dodman waiten in his new spring-cart to see 'em come
out--whip in hand--that 'a was. Then up comes two master tailors.
Then there was Christopher Runt wi' his pickaxe and shovel. There was
wimmen-folk and there was men-folk traypsen up and down church'ard till
they wore a path wi' traypsen so--letten the squallen children slip down
through their arms and nearly skinnen