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Ay, poor young things! you must have patience: matrimony is a very pretty thing, but it will not knock at your door at this bout.

And at whose door will it knock at this bout?

What is that to you, Mr. Long-ears; you may guess.

One, mayhap, at whose door it will not have to wait: ready entrance to the long expected may be depended upon.

Long expected?

Yes; and how long, Mrs. Flounce? Some ten or fifteen years, or thereabouts?

Say fifteen, an you will; what is that to my mistress?

O, it is your mistress you are thinking of.