But then, when I come to think on it, meanin' goes but a
little way i' most things, for you may mean to stick things together
and your glue may be bad, and then where are you? And so I says to
mysen, "It isn't the meanin', it's the glue." And I was worreted as if
I'd got three bells to pull at once, when we went into the vestry, and
they begun to sign their names. But where's the use o' talking?--you
can't think what goes on in a 'cute man's inside."

"But you held in for all that, didn't you, Mr. Macey?" said the
landlord.

"Aye, I held in tight till I was by mysen wi' Mr. Drumlow, and then I
out wi' everything, but respectful, as I allays did. And he made light
on it, and he says, "Pooh, pooh, Macey, make yourself easy," he says;
"it's neither the meaning nor the words--it's the re_ges_ter does
it--that's the glue." So you see he settled it easy; for parsons and
doctors know everything by heart, like, so as they aren't worreted wi'
thinking what's the rights and wrongs o' things, as I'n been many and
many's the time. And sure enough the wedding turned out all right,
on'y poor Mrs. Lammeter--that's Miss Osgood as was--died afore the
lasses was growed up; but for prosperity and everything respectable,
there's no family more looked on."

Every one of Mr. Macey's audience had heard this story many times, but
it was listened to as if it had been a favourite tune, and at certain
points the puffing of the pipes was momentarily suspended, that the
listeners might give their whole minds to the expected words. But
there was more to come; and Mr. Snell, the landlord, duly put the
leading question.

"Why, old Mr. Lammeter had a pretty fortin, didn't they say, when he
come into these parts?"

"Well, yes," said Mr. Macey; "but I daresay it's as much as this Mr.
Lammeter's done to keep it whole. For there was allays a talk as
nobody could get rich on the Warrens: though he holds it cheap, for
it's what they call Charity Land."

"Aye, and there's few folks know so well as you how it come to be
Charity Land, eh, Mr. Macey?" said the butcher.

"How should they?" said the old clerk, with some contempt. "Why, my
grandfather made the grooms' livery for that Mr. Cliff as came and
built the big stables at the Warrens. Why, they're stables four times
as big as Squire Cass's, for he thought o' nothing but hosses and
hunting, Cliff didn't--a Lunnon tailor, some folks said, as had gone
mad wi' cheating. For he couldn't rid