pil. As
it was impossible to conceal the fact--so extensive were the dress-making
preparations--Miss Pupford openly announced it. But, she held it due to
parents to make the announcement with an air of gentle melancholy, as if
marriage were (as indeed it exceptionally has been) rather a calamity.
With an air of softened resignation and pity, therefore, Miss Pupford
went on with her preparations: and meanwhile no pupil ever went
up-stairs, or came down, without peeping in at the door of Miss Pupford's
bedroom (when Miss Pupford wasn't there), and bringing back some
surprising intelligence concerning the bonnet.

The extensive preparations being completed on the day before the
holidays, an unanimous entreaty was preferred to Miss Pupford by the
pupil-mind--finding expression through Miss Pupford's assistant--that she
would deign to appear in all her splendour. Miss Pupford consenting,
presented a lovely spectacle. And although the oldest pupil was barely
thirteen, every one of the six became in two minutes perfect in the
shape, cut, colour, price, and quality, of every article Miss Pupford
wore.

Thus delightfully ushered in, the holidays began. Five of the six pupils
kissed little Kitty Kimmeens twenty times over (round total, one hundred
times, for she was very popular), and so went home. Miss Kitty Kimmeens
remained behind, for her relations and friends were all in India, far
away. A self-helpful steady little child is Miss Kitty Kimmeens: a
dimpled child too, and a loving.

So, the great marriage-day came, and Miss Pupford, quite as much
fluttered as any bride could be (G! thought Miss Kitty Kimmeens), went
away, splendid to behold, in the carriage that was sent for her. But not
Miss Pupford only went away; for Miss Pupford's assistant went away with
her, on a dutiful visit to an aged uncle--though surely the venerable
gentleman couldn't live in the gallery of the church where the marriage
was to be, thought Miss Kitty Kimmeens--and yet Miss Pupford's assistant
had let out that she was going there. Where the cook was going, didn't
appear, but she generally conveyed to Miss Kimmeens that she was bound,
rather against her will, on a pilgrimage to perform some pious office
that rendered new ribbons necessary to her best bonnet, and also sandals
to her shoes.

"So you see," said the housemaid, when they were all gone, "there's
nobody left in the house but you and me, Miss Kimmeens."

"Nobody else," said Mis