t she don't know what to do, and that she will say for Miss Emma, that
she never had a hasty word from her, and that she does hope and pray she
may be happy.

But Jane soon comes round again, and then surely there never was anything
like the breakfast table, glittering with plate and china, and set out
with flowers and sweets, and long-necked bottles, in the most sumptuous
and dazzling manner. In the centre, too, is the mighty charm, the cake,
glistening with frosted sugar, and garnished beautifully. They agree
that there ought to be a little Cupid under one of the barley-sugar
temples, or at least two hearts and an arrow; but, with this exception,
there is nothing to wish for, and a table could not be handsomer. As
they arrive at this conclusion, who should come in but Mr. John! to whom
Jane says that its only Anne from number six; and John says _he_ knows,
for he's often winked his eye down the area, which causes Anne to blush
and look confused. She is going away, indeed; when Mr. John will have it
that she must drink a glass of wine, and he says never mind it's being
early in the morning, it won't hurt her: so they shut the door and pour
out the wine; and Anne drinking lane's health, and adding, 'and here's
wishing you yours, Mr. John,' drinks it in a great many sips,--Mr. John
all the time making jokes appropriate to the occasion. At last Mr. John,
who has waxed bolder by degrees, pleads the usage at weddings, and claims
the privilege of a kiss, which he obtains after a great scuffle; and
footsteps being now heard on the stairs, they disperse suddenly.

By this time a carriage has driven up to convey the bride to church, and
Anne of number six prolonging the process of 'cleaning her door,' has the
satisfaction of beholding the bride and bridesmaids, and the papa and
mamma, hurry into the same and drive rapidly off. Nor is this all, for
soon other carriages begin to arrive with a posse of company all
beautifully dressed, at whom she could stand and gaze for ever; but
having something else to do, is compelled to take one last long look and
shut the street-door.

And now the company have gone down to breakfast, and tears have given
place to smiles, for all the corks are out of the long-necked bottles,
and their contents are disappearing rapidly. Miss Emma's papa is at the
top of the table; Miss Emma's mamma at the bottom; and beside the latter
are Miss Emma herself and her husband,--admitted on all hands to be