an' me see a weddin' in me cup only this very mornin."

Mrs Yabsley looked at Jonah and laughed.

"Might as well own up, Joe," she cried. "The cat's out of the bag."

"Right y'are," cried Jonah. "Let 'em all come. I can't be 'ung fer it."

Mrs Yabsley, delighted with her son-in-law's speech, invited Mrs Swadling
to a seat, and then stepped out to ask a few of her neighbours in to drink
a glass and wish them luck. In half an hour the room was full of women,
who were greatly impressed by the bottles of beer, a luxury for
aristocrats. When Joey the pieman arrived, some were sitting on the
veranda, as the room was crowded. Mrs Yabsley anxiously reckoned the
number of guests; she had reckoned on twelve, and there were twenty.
She beckoned to Jonah, and they whispered together for a minute. He
counted some money into her hand, and cried,

"Let 'er go; it's only once in a lifetime."

Then Mrs Yabsley, as hostess, went to each in turn, asking what they
preferred. The choice was limited to green peas, hot pies, and saveloys,
and as each chose, she ticked it off on a piece of paper in hieroglyphics
known only to herself, as she was used to number the shirts and collars.
Joey, impressed by the magnitude of the order, got down from his perch in
the cart and helped to serve the guests. And he passed in and out among
the expectant crowd, helping them to make a choice, like a chef anxious
to please even the most fastidious palates.

Cups, saucers, plates, and basins were pressed into service until