The post office and its story an interesting account of the activities of a great government department

Working Man. Mornin', sir; what I came to see yer abaht is just this 'ere. If I puts my little bit in the Post Horfice 'ow abaht 'er (pointing to the lady) when I dies? Will there be any trouble abaht payin' 'er? There ain't no kids. Clerk. Of course you are married: in that case it would be all right. Working Man (doubtfully). Married! don't exactly understand, sir. Clerk. Well, have you got any marriage lines? Working Man to Working Lady. 'Ave, we, Sal? Working Lady (confidently). Na, not likely. Working Man. Well, young man, it's like this 'ere; we've lived together twenty year: she's my missus, I'm 'er 'usband, and I wants 'er to 'ave my little bit when I goes aloft. Ain't that it, Sal? Working Lady (coyly). Yus. Clerk. Well, did you go to church to be married? Working Lady. Get out; not likely. Clerk. Did you go to a Registry Office? Working Lady (indignantly). Not me. Clerk. Well, you'll excuse me saying so, but you are not married. Working Man (puzzled). I dunno; yer see my missus and I 'ave been twenty years together, and it's 'ard on 'er if she can't get this 'ere brass. Can't say as it ever occurred to us to go to church or a Horfice. What am I to do, young man? Clerk. Why don't you get married? Working Lady. 'Ow much does it cost? Clerk. Oh, only a few shillings. Working Man. Well, Sal, what do you think?