had been no real misfortune to either.

The next tidings were still more surprising. Mr. Dutton was leaving
the firm. Though his father had died insolvent, and he had had to
struggle for himself in early life, he was connected with wealthy
people, and change and death among these had brought him a fair share
of riches. An uncle who had emigrated to Australia at the time of the
great break up had died without other heirs, leaving him what was the
more welcome to him that Micklethwayte could never be to him what it
had been in its golden age. He had realised enough to enable him to be
bountiful, and his parting gift to St Ambrose's would complete the
church; but he himself was winding up the partnership, and withdrawing
his means from Greenleaf and Co. in order to go out to Australia to
decide what to do with his new possessions.

Mark Egremont purchased a number of the shares, though, to gratify the
family, the shelter of the Greenleaf veiled his name under the 'Co.,'
and another, already in the firm, possessed of a business-like
appellation, gave designation to the firm as Greenleaf, Goodenough, and
Co.

Mr. Dutton's well-kept house, with the little conservatory and the
magnolia, was judged sufficient for present needs, and the lease was
taken off his hands, so that all was in order for the marriage of Mark
and Annaple immediately after Easter.

Lady Delmar had resigned herself to the inevitable, and the wedding was
to take place at Lescombe. Nuttie, whose chief relaxation was in
hearing all the pros and cons from May and Blanche, was asked to be one
of the bridesmaids by Annaple, who had come over to the Rectory in a
droll inscrutable state of mischief, declaring that she had exasperated
Janet to the verge of insanity by declaring that she should have little
umbrellas like those in the Persian inscriptions on her cards, and that
Mark was to present all the bridesmaids with neat parasols. If
crinolines had not been gone out they could have all been dressed
appropriately. Now they must wear them closely furled. All this
banter was hardly liked by May and Blanche, whose little sisters were
laughed at again for needing the assurance that they were really to
wear white and rowan leaves and berries--the Ronnisglen badge. Nuttie,
who had drawn much nearer to May, refrained from relating this part of
the story at home, but was much disappointed when, on telling her
father of the request, she was answered at once: