er. What do _you_
say?"

"What's it possible to say?" returned the gentleman. "What _is_ to be
said? Who can take any interest in a fellow like this," meaning Trotty,
"in such degenerate times as these? Look at him! What an object! The
good old times, the grand old times, the great old times! _Those_ were
the times for a bold peasantry, and all that sort of thing. Those were
the times for every sort of thing, in fact. There's nothing now-a-days.
Ah!" sighed the red-faced gentleman. "The good old times, the good old
times!"

It is possible that poor Trotty's faith in these very vague Old Times
was not entirely destroyed, for he felt vague enough, at that moment.
One thing, however, was plain to him, in the midst of his distress; to
wit, that however these gentlemen might differ in details, his
misgivings of that morning, and of many other mornings, were well
founded. "No, no. We can't go right or do right," thought Trotty in
despair. "There is no good in us. We are born bad!"

But Trotty had a father's heart within him; which had somehow got into
his breast in spite of this decree; and he could not bear that Meg, in
the blush of her brief joy, should have her fortune read by these wise
gentlemen. "God help her," thought poor Trotty. "She will know it soon
enough."

He anxiously signed, therefore, to the young smith, to take her away.
But he was so busy, talking to her softly at a little distance, that he
only became conscious of this desire, simultaneously with Alderman Cute.
Now, the Alderman had not yet had his say, but _he_ was a philosopher,
too--practical though! Oh, very practical!--and, as he had no idea of
losing any portion of his audience, he cried "Stop!"

Trotty took Meg's hand and drew it through his arm. He didn't seem to
know what he was doing though.

"Your daughter, eh?" said the Alderman, chucking her familiarly under
the chin.

"And you're making love to her, are you?" said Cute to the young smith.

"Yes," returned Richard quickly, for he was nettled by the question.
"And we are going to be married on New Year's Day."

"What do you mean?" cried Filer sharply. "Married!"

"Why, yes, we were thinking of it. Master," said Richard. "We're rather
in a hurry you see, in case it should be Put Down first."

"Ah!" cried Filer, with a groan. "Put _that_ down indeed. Alderman, and
you'll do something. Married! Married!! The ignorance of the first
principles of political economy on the part of these