"I'll do anything you say," said he, "if you please won't get off any
more puns. It's awful. I knew a fellow once who had it chronic. He
doubled every word that he could lay his tongue to. When he was going to
a party, he'd take the dictionary and pick out a lot of words that could
be twisted, and set 'em down and study on 'em, so he could be ready with
a lot of puns, and when he got 'em off folks would laugh, but all the
time they'd wish he'd died young. And that's the way he'd go on. He
finally drove his mother into a consumption, and at her funeral, instead
of taking on as he ought to, he only just looked at the body, and said,
'Well, that's the worst _coffin-fit_ the old lady ever had.' And then he
turned round and began to get off puns on the mourners. Wasn't it
dreadful?--But what's that?"
Somebody was knocking at the door.
"What's wanted?" said ANN.
"It's your minister as has come, mum," said TEDDY, from the outside.
"What word shall I give him?"
"Tell him I shan't want him," said ANN.
In a few minutes TEDDY came back.
"He says, mum, as he won't go without marryin' somebody, or a gittin'
his pay anyway, for it's a nice buryin' job as he's lost by comin'."
"But," said ANN, "I can't--" She hesitated, and seemed to form a sudden
resolution.
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