Australian Tales - Setis

“She has gone up to her Aunt Sally's at Lane Cove. Her mother said
Jabez wont dare to go there to trouble her; but if he does he had better
mind his bad legs, for her cousin Phil has come back from the diggings.”
“I am glad she is out of the way. Now, don't you say a word to any of
the neighbours about this affair. It will all turn out right if you act
prudently, and have patience. In the meantime, gossips will be busy
enough, but don't let them be able to say that they heard your tongue in
the matter. That's my advice to you, Missis.”
* * * * *
On Friday morning, Jabez was up at the first streak of light; in fact, he
had lain awake all night, thinking of the bliss that awaited him on the
coming day, and picturing himself in his wedding suit.
“Friday isn't a lucky day with me in general,” he soliloquized, as he
began to fit on his new flannels. “I was wrecked on a Friday, robbed on a
Friday, fell down an area coal-hole on a Friday, and — but pooh, pooh! I
won't be superstitious.”
“Hoy, Mrs. Budge! send Billy up with my shaving water, and a cake of
scented soap; and just air those new lambswool stockings for me, will
you? Ahem-hem-hem! dear me, my winter cough is not coming on today,
I hope. I'm afraid my nightcap was damp last night. That old woman
is so careless; she thinks I'm made of gutta percha. Ah, never mind, I
shall have a young woman in the house presently, and all my own too
— ho, ho, ho! all my own for life! how nice! Bless her heart! she'll see
that my linen is well aired, I'll be bound. She'll coddle me up, and pat my
back when my cough is choking me. She'll rub away my rheumatism,
and make me as lively all day long as a Scotch fiddler. Heigho! I wonder
how she is this morning? I dare say she is rather mournful at leaving her
mother, poor little thing! I'll cheer her up as soon as I get her. I feel
uncommonly shivery, but I suppose it is natural for a man to be nervous
on his wedding morning. I hope I sha'n't cut my nose off while I'm
shaving my upper lip. That would be a bad job indeed — ha, ha! I should
look funny going to church to be married without my nose. I wonder if
Kitty would love me then as now? or whether the loss of half-an-ounce
of gristle would be a serious consideration with her? Pooh! not at all; I
won't wrong her by supposing such a thing. She has a soul far above such
petty influences, and would love me all the more for my misfortune. The
loss of my nose would doubly endear me to her, especially as it was cut
off on my wedding day, and in her service I may say, for if it wasn't for
her I should not shave at all. Pretty little dear! she does not like
moustachios, so I'll mow them down twice a week, as long as I live.
Hurrah! I've got over that hazardous operation, and my nose is as sound
as a new bugle: now for some of that wonderful pomatum, warranted to