The horse looked much more like a bridegroom than Tackleton, whose
half-closed eye was more disagreeably expressive than ever. But
the Carrier took little heed of this. His thoughts had other
occupation.

'John Peerybingle!' said Tackleton, with an air of condolence. 'My
good fellow, how do you find yourself this morning?'

'I have had but a poor night, Master Tackleton,' returned the
Carrier, shaking his head: 'for I have been a good deal disturbed
in my mind. But it's over now! Can you spare me half an hour or
so, for some private talk?'

'I came on purpose,' returned Tackleton, alighting. 'Never mind
the horse. He'll stand quiet enough, with the reins over this
post, if you'll give him a mouthful of hay.'

The Carrier having brought it from his stable, and set it before
him, they turned into the house.

'You are not married before noon,' he said, 'I think?'

'No,' answered Tackleton. 'Plenty of time. Plenty of time.'

When they entered the kitchen, Tilly Slowboy was rapping at the
Stranger's door; which was only removed from it by a few steps.
One of her very red eyes (for Tilly had been crying all night long,
because her mistress cried) was at the keyhole; and she was
knocking very loud; and seemed frightened.