"Ah, you understand not a word of what she says?" screamed Gammer
Gurton. "Well, but I understand it. I understand that everything
between us is past and done with, and that I have nothing more to do
with you, you Moloch, you! I understand that I shall not go and make
my will, to become your wife and fret myself to death over this
skeleton of a husband, that I may leave you to chuckle as my heir.
No, no, it is past. I am not going to the justice of the peace, and
I will tear up my will!"
"Oh, she is going to tear up her will!" howled Hodge; "and then I
have tormented myself in vain; in vain have endured the horrible
luck of being loved by this old owl! Oh, oh, she will not make her
will, and Hodge will remain the same miserable dog he always was!"
Gammer Gurton laughed scornfully. "Ah, you are aware at last what a
pitiable wretch you are, and how much a noble and handsome person,
as I am, lowered herself when she made up her mind to pick up such a
weed and make him her husband."
"Yes, yes, I know it!" whined Hodge; "and I pray you pick me up and
take me, and above all things make your will!"
"No, I will not take you, and I shall not make my will! It is all
over with, I tell you; and now you can go as soon as vou please to
Tib, who has called you so lovingly. But first give me back my
sewing-needle, you magpie, you! Give me here my sewing-needle, which
you have stolen. It is of no use to you now, for it is not necessary
for me to go out in order that you may go and see Tib.
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