Footman Oliver was ready at the door to receive
'em, an' the pair went upstairs to a fine set o' rooms he'd made
ready in the sou'-west tower, an' there for a whole month they lived
together, as you might say, in wedded happiness.
"At th' end o' the month th' old Rector discovered he had business
takin' him to Bristol. He said his farewells very lovin'ly, promised
to come back as soon as he could, but warned the poor lady against
setting foot outside the doors. The gardens an' fields (he said)
swarmed with field-mice, an' he knew she had a terror of mice of all
sorts. So off he rode, an' by an' by came back by night with a
second young lady: and Oliver showed 'em up to the nor'-east tower
for the honeymoon.
"A week later my gentleman had a call to post down to Penzance.
He warned his second wife that it was a terrible year for adders an'
the ground swarmin' with 'em, for he knew she had a horror o' snakes.
Inside of a fortnight he brought home a third--"
"Bill," said Mr. Jope, sitting up sharply, "what noise was that?"
"I didn't hear it," answered Mr. Adams, who was turning up his
trousers uneasily. "Adders, maybe."
"Seemed to me it sounded from somewheres in the cellar.
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