I heard George go heavily up the stairs and enter the room over the bar-parlour, where the grandmother lay bed-ridden.
“What, is it thaïgh, ma lad? What are thaïgh doin’ ’ere this mornin’?” she asked.
“Well A’nt, how does ta feel by now?” he said.
“Eh, sadly, lad, sadly! It’ll not be long afore they carry me downstairs head first——”
“Nay, dunna thee say so!—I’m just off to Nottingham—I want Meg ter come.”
“What for?” cried the old woman sharply.
“I wanted ’er to get married,” he replied.
“What! What does’t say? An’ what about th’ licence, an’ th’ ring, an ivrything?”
“I’ve seen to that all right,” he answered.
“Well, tha ’rt a nice’st un, I must say! What’s want goin’ in this pig-in-a-poke fashion for? This is a nice shabby trick to serve a body! What does ta mean by it?”
“You knowed as I wor goin’ ter marry ’er directly, so I can’t see as it matters o’ th’ day. I non wanted a’ th’ pub talkin’——”
“Tha ’rt mighty particklar, an’ all, an’ all! An’ why shouldn’t the pub talk? Tha ’rt non marryin’ a nigger, as ta should be so frightened—I niver thought it on thee!—An’ what’s thy ’orry, all of a sudden?”
“No hurry as I know of.”
“No ’orry——!” replied the old lady, with withering sarcasm. “Tha wor niver in a ’orry a’ thy life! She’s non commin’ wi’ thee this day, though.”
He laughed, also sarcastic. The old lady was angry. She poured on him her abuse, declaring she
