In reality, therefore, Will and Bet were not poor.
They were to part on Monday, but between that parting and the present
moment would come the short church ceremony, and the little honeymoon,
which they had arranged to spend at Birkenhead. Mother Bunch was to
take care of the boys during Bet's absence, and the girl's own small
preparations were nearly made.
On Tuesday she sat down in her attic and thought how a few short days
had worked a complete revolution in her life. She was excited and
hopeful and happy, and nothing was further from her mind at that moment
than a certain dreadful old proverb which declares that there is many
a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. The boys were playing in the back
court behind the house, and Bet, having tidied up her very humble
apartment, until, literally, there was not a pin in the wrong place,
had risen to go downstairs, when she heard a lumbering, rolling, and
very heavy step ascending. There was no mistaking who was coming to
pay her a visit--no one but Mother Bunch could so bang herself against
the sides of the slimy wails, or cause the frail balustrade to creak
and groan, as she lurched in turn against it; no one but Mother Bunch
could so puff and pant and groan, and finally launch herself into Bet's
attic like a dead weight, and sit down on the pallet bed, spreading
out her broad hands on her knees, and puffing more than ever.
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