n thought this was necessary, so that she could make full use
of her intended husband.

"If he wasn't here allays," said the bride-elect, "he'd be gadding about
idling. I know him. An' me getting a business together won't be easy
unless I've got him at 'and, as you may say, to take round the bills,
let alone that he ought to sleep in the 'ouse in case burgulars gits in.
And sleep in the 'ouse without the blessin' of matrimony he can't, my
pretty, so that's all about it."

Deborah, as an American would say, was a "hustler," and having made up
her mind, she did not let grass grow under her feet. She called on the
vicar of the parish and explained herself at great length, but
suppressed the fact that she had formerly lived in Gwynne Street. She
did not want the shadow of the murder to cast a gloom over her new home,
and therefore said nothing about the matter. All the vicar, good, easy
soul, knew, was that Deborah had been a servant in a respectable family
(whereabouts not mentioned); that the father and mother had died, and
that she had brought the only daughter of the house to live with her and
be treated like a lady. Then Deborah demanded that the banns should be
put up, and arranged that Bart should take up his abode in the parish
for the necessary time. This was done, and for three Sundays Deborah had
the pleasure of hearing the banns announced which foretold that Bart
Tawsey and herself would soon be man and wife. Then the marriage took
place.

The future Mrs. Tawsey had no relatives, but Bart produced a snuffy old
grandmother from some London slum who drank gin during the
wedding-feast, much to the scandal of the bride. Paul acted as best man
to Bart, and Sylvia, in her plain black dress, was bridesmaid. Mrs.
Purr, the grandmother, objected to the presence of black at a wedding,
saying it was unlucky, and told of many fearful incidents which had
afterwards occurred to those who had tolerated such a funeral garb. But
Deborah swept away all opposition.

"What!" she shouted in her usual style, "not 'ave my own sweet pretty to
arsk a blessing on my marriage, and she not able to git out of 'er
blacks? I'm astonished at you, Mrs. Purr, and you an old woman as
oughter know better. I doubt if you're Bart's granny. I've married into
an ijit race. Don't talk to me, Mrs. Purr, if you please. Live clean an'
work 'ard, and there's no trouble with them 'usbands. As 'as to love,
honor and obey you."--And she sniffed.

"Them