nto market at
Cambridge, or elsewhere, and 'lists, and never goes home again; do you
think, I say, that that lad don't feel a very strange emptiness about
the epigastric region when he thinks of the grey-headed old man, that
is sitting waiting for him at the cottage-door? And," added Halbert,
standing on the plunging-stage Adamically, without a rag upon him,
pointing at Jim with his finger in an oratorical manner; "do you think
that the old man who sits there, year after year, waiting for him who
never comes, and telling the neighbours that his lad who is gone for a
sodger, was the finest lad in the village, do you think that old man
feels nothing? Give up fine feelings, Jim. You don't know what trouble
is yet."

And so he went souse into the water.

And after the bathe all came up and dressed;--white trowsers and
brilliant ties being the order of the day. Then we all, from the
bachelor side of the house, assembled in the verandah, for the ceremony
was not to be performed till eight, and it was not more than halfpast
seven. There was the promise of a very awkward half hour, so I was glad
of a diversion caused by my appearing in a blue coat with gilt buttons,
and pockets in the tails,--a coat I had not brought out for twenty
years, but as good as new, I give you my honour. Jim was very funny
about that coat, and I encouraged him by defending it, and so we got
through ten minutes, and kept Sam amused. Then one of the grooms, a lad
I mentioned before as bringing a note to Baroona on one occasion, a
long brown-faced lad, born of London parents in the colony, made a
diversion by coming round to look at us. He admired us very much, but
my gilt buttons took his attention principally. He guessed they must
have cost a matter of twenty pound, but on my telling him that the
whole affair was bought for three pounds, he asked, I remember:--

"What are they made on, then?"

Brass I supposed, and gilt. So he left me in disgust, and took up with
Jim's trowsers, wanting to know "if they was canvas."

"Satin velvet," Jim said; and then the Major came out and beckoned us
into the drawing-room.

And there she was, between Mrs. Buckley and Mary Hawker, dressed all in
white, looking as beautiful as morning. Frank Maberly stood beside a
little table, which the women had made into an altar, with the big
Prayer-book in his hand. And we all stood around, and the servants
thronged in, and Sam, taking Alice's hand, went up and stood before