Chapter 51 - Page 2

took two articles
of clothing out together, but always brought them forth, singly, and
never failed to shut the wardrobe door, and turn the key, between
each visit to its shelves.

'The snuff-coloured suit,' said Arthur Gride, surveying a threadbare
coat. 'Did I look well in snuff-colour? Let me think.'

The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavourable, for he
folded the garment once more, laid it aside, and mounted on a chair
to get down another, chirping while he did so:

Young, loving, and fair,
Oh what happiness there!
The wedding is sure to be lucky!

'They always put in "young,"' said old Arthur, 'but songs are only
written for the sake of rhyme, and this is a silly one that the poor
country-people sang, when I was a little boy. Though stop--young is
quite right too--it means the bride--yes. He, he, he! It means the
bride. Oh dear, that's good. That's very good. And true besides,
quite true!'

In the satisfaction of this discovery, he went over the verse again,
with increased expression, and a shake or two here and there. He
then resumed his employment.

'The bottle-green,' said old Arthur; 'the bottle-green was a famous
suit to wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawnbroker's, and
there was--he, he, he!--a tarnished shilling in the waistcoat
pocket. To think that the pawnbroker shouldn't have known there was
a shilling in it! I knew it! I felt it when I was examining the
quality. Oh, what a dull dog of a pawnbroker! It was a lucky suit
too, this bottle-green. The very day I put it on first, old Lord
Mallowford was burnt to death in his bed, and all the post-obits
fell in. I'll be married in the bottle-green. Peg. Peg Sliderskew
--I'll wear the bottle-green!'

This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room-door, brought
into the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed old woman,
palsy-stricken and hideously ugly, who, wiping her shrivelled face
upon her dirty apron, inquired, in that subdued tone in which deaf
people commonly speak:

'Was that you a calling, or only the clock a striking? My hearing
gets so bad, I never know which is which; but when I hear a noise, I
know it must be one of you, because nothing else never stirs in the
house.'

'Me, Peg, me,' said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on the breast to
render the reply more intelligible.

'You, eh?' returned Peg. 'And what do YOU want?'

'I'll be married in the bottle-green,' cried Arthur Gride.

'It's a deal too good to be married in, master,' rejoined Peg, after
a short inspection of the suit. 'Haven't you got anything worse
than this?'

'Nothing that'll do,' replied old Arthur.

'Why not do?' retorted Peg. 'Why don't you