Graeme, on behalf of himself and
his wife, assured them that there was no place in the world like Sark,
and that they had never enjoyed a wedding so much in all their lives,
and that if they had to be married a hundred times they could wish no
happier wedding than Sark had given them.

And of all that company, none beamed more brightly, nor enjoyed
himself more, than Charles Pixley, who, having come to curse, had, in
most approved fashion, stayed to bless, and had even beaten the
prophet's record by giving away to another the treasure he had desired
for himself.

In the usual course of things, after the feasting would have come
games and songs until dark. But that had been adjudged too much of an
ordeal by the ladies, and the onus of it was laid upon the youngsters
outside. While Margaret and Miss Penny rested from their labours, and
Mrs. Carre and her helpers cleared the rooms for the festivities of
the evening, and prepared the milder and more intermittent refections
necessary thereto, Graeme and Pixley and the Vicar and others set the
children to games and races, for which indeed their previous exertions
at the tables had not best fitted them, but which nevertheless, or
perhaps on that very account, were provocative of much laughter and
merriment.

Then, when it grew dark, and the reluctant youngsters had been cajoled
and dragged and packed off to bed, the hitherto-unprovided-for
section--the young men and maidens, all in their best and a trifle shy
to begin with--came flocking in for their share in the festivities,
and Orpheus and Terpsichore held the floor for the rest of the night.

And they did dance! Margaret and Miss Penny and Graeme and Pixley
thought they had seen dancing before, but dancing such as this it had
never been theirs to witness.

If it lacked anything in grace--and far be it from me to say so--it
more than made up for all by its inexhaustible energy and tireless
enjoyment. The men had brought their own music in the shape of a
concertina, which passed from hand to hand and with which they all
seemed on equally friendly terms.

Jokes, laughter, round dances, refreshments, interludes of smokings
and gigglings in the darkness of the verandah, occasional more
intellectual flights in the shape of songs and recitations,--mostly of
a somewhat lugubrious tendency, to judge by the faces of the auditors,
but being mostly in patois they were unintelligible to the British
foreigners,--more dances,--co