Registrar was about to read the declaration, the pal slipped behind some friends and, catching the bridegroom by the collar, whispered, “Now then, old man, pull yourself together.”  The Registrar looked up, but his spectacles did not appear to help him; the Assistant-Registrar, a tall, languid young man, who wore a carnation in his button-hole, yawned and called for order.  The room was lighted by a skylight, and the light fell diffused on the hands and faces; and alternately and in combination the whiskied breath and the carnation’s scent assailed the nostrils.  Suddenly the silence was broken by the Registrar, who began to read the declarations.  “I hereby declare that I, James Hicks, know of no impediment whereby I may not be joined in matrimony with Matilde, Matilde—­is it Matilde or Matilda?”

“I calls her Tilly when I am a-cuddling of her; when she riles me, and gets my dander up, I says, ‘Tilder, come here!’” and the butcher raised his voice till it seemed like an ox’s bellow.

“I really must beg,” exclaimed the Registrar, “that the sanctity of—­the gravity of this ceremony is not disturbed by any foolish frivolity.  You must remember ...”  But at that moment the glassy look of the butcher’s eyes reached the old gentleman’s vision, and a heavy hiccup fell upon his ears.  “I really think, Mr. Freeman, that that gentleman, one of the contracting parties I mean, is not in a fit state—­is in a state bordering on inebriation.  Will you tell me if this is so?”

“I didn’t notice it before,” said Mr. Freeman, stifling a yawn, “but now you mention it, I really think he is a little drunk, and hardly in a fit ...”

“I ne—­ver was more jolly, jolly dog in my life (hiccup)—­when you gentlemen have made it (hiccup) all squ—­square between me and my Tilly” (a violent hiccup),—­then suddenly taking her round the waist, he hugged her so violently that Matilda could not forbear a scream,—­“I fancy I shall be, just be a trifle more jolly still....  If any of you ge—­gen’men would care to join us—­most ’appy, Tilly and me.”

Lizzie, who had discovered a relation or two—­a disreputable father and a nondescript brother—­now appeared on the threshold.  Her presence reminded Frank of his responsibility, so forthwith he proceeded to bully the Registrar and allude menacingly to his newspaper.

“I’m sure, sir, I am very sorry you should have witnessed such a scene.  Never, really, in the whole course of my life ...”

“There is positively no excuse for allowing such people ...”

“I will not go on with the marriage,” roared the Registrar; “really, Mr. Freeman, you ought to have seen.  You know how short-sighted I am.  I will not proceed with this marriage.”

“Oh, please, sir, Mr. Registrar, don’t say that,” exclaimed Matilda.  “If you don’t go on now, he’ll never marry me; I’ll never be able to bring ’im to the scratch again.  Indeed, sir, ’e’s not so drunk as he looks.  ’Tis mostly the effect of the morning hair upon him.”