od 'un that is!' And he laughed a little lazily, with
the ivory handle of his cane on his lip, and eyeing Madame with indolent
derision.

Madame laughed, but looked rather dangerous.

'I'm only chaffin', you know, old girl. _You_'ve bin chaffin'--w'y
shouldn't _I_? But I don't see why she can't wait a bit; and what's all the
d----d hurry for? _I_'m in no hurry. I don't want a wife on my back for a
while. There's no fellow marries till he's took his bit o' fun, and seen
life--is there! And why should I be driving with her to fairs, or to
church, or to meeting, by jingo!--for they say she's a Quaker--with a babby
on each knee, only to please them as will be dead and rotten when _I_'m
only beginning?'

'Ah, you are such charming fellow; always the same--always sensible. So
I and my friend we will walk home again, and you go see Maggie Hawkes.
Good-a-by, Dud--good-a-by.'

'Quiet, you fool!--can't ye?' said the young gentleman, with the sort of
grin that made his face vicious when a horse vexed him. 'Who ever said I
wouldn't go look at the girl? Why, you know that's just what I come here
for--don't you? Only when I think a bit, and a notion comes across me, why
shouldn't I speak out? I'm not one o' them shilly-shallies. If I like the
girl, I'll not be mug in and mug out about it. Only mind ye, I'll judge for
myself. Is that her a-coming?'

'No; it was a distant sound.'

Madame peeped round the corner. No one was approaching.

'Well, you go round that a-way, and you only look at her, you know, for she
is such fool--so nairvous.'

'Oh, is that the way with her?' said Dud, knocking out the ashes of his
pipe on a tombstone, and replacing the Turkish utensil in his pocket.
'Well, then, old lass, good-bye,' and he shook her hand. 'And, do ye see,
don't ye come up till I pass, for I'm no hand at play-acting; an' if you
called me "sir," or was coming it dignified and distant, you know, I'd be
sure to laugh, a'most, and let all out. So good-bye, d'ye see, and if you
want me again be sharp to time, mind.

From habit he looked about for his dogs, but he had not brought one. He had
come unostentatiously by rail, travelling in a third-class carriage, for
the advantage of Jack Briderly's company, and getting a world of useful
wrinkles about the steeplechase that was coming off next week.

So he strode away, cutting off the heads of the nettles with his cane as he
went; and Madame walked forth into the open space among the grave