“That’s my wedding-day!” said Tackleton, rattling his money in his pocket.
“Why, that’s the anniversary of our wedding, too!” exclaimed the carrier.
“Ha, ha!” laughed Tackleton. “Odd! You’re just such another couple as we will be! Just!”
At this speech, Dot was most indignant. What next would the man say? As though her John resembled Tackleton in any particular!
“I say! A word with you,” murmured Tackleton, nudging the carrier with his elbow, and taking him off a little way. “You’ll come to the wedding, won’t you? We’re in the same boat, you know.”
“Why, you’re not so youthful as your wife, yourself,” said Tackleton, with another nudge. “Come and spend an evening with us beforehand.”
“Why?” demanded John, astonished at this hospitality.
“Why?” returned the other. “That’s a new way to receive an invitation. Why--for pleasure--to be sociable, you know, and all that.”
“I thought you were never sociable,” said John, in his plain way.
“As you like; what does it matter? Your company will produce a favorable impression on Mrs. Tackleton that-will-be. You’ll say you’ll come?”
“We have arranged to keep our wedding day at home,” said John. “We think, you see, that home----”
“Bah! What’s home?” cried Tackleton. “Four walls and a ceiling! Why don’t you kill that cricket? I would! I always do! I hate their noise! You’ll say you’ll come, to-morrow evening?”
“Scrunch ’em, sir,” returned the other, setting his heel heavily on the floor. “Then you won’t give us to-morrow evening? Well! Next day you go out visiting, I know. I’ll meet you there, and bring my wife that-is-to-be. It’ll do her good. You’re agreeable? Thankee. What’s that?”
It was a loud cry from the carrier’s wife; a loud, sharp, sudden cry, that made the room ring like a glass bell that was struck. She had risen from her seat and stood like one transfixed by terror and surprise. The Stranger had gone toward the fire to warm himself, but he was quite still.
“Dot!” cried the carrier, “Darling Dot! What’s the matter?”
They were all about her in a moment. Caleb, who had been dozing on the cake-box, in the first start, seized Tilly Slowboy by the hair, but immediately apologized.
“Mary!” exclaimed the carrier, for Dot’s real name was Mary, Dot being only a pet name of her husband’s. “Mary dear, are you ill? What is it? Tell me, dear.”
