t, many months.

Next day, too, when we all go in a flock to see the house--our
house--Dora's and mine--I am quite unable to regard myself as its
master. I seem to be there, by permission of somebody else. I half
expect the real master to come home presently, and say he is glad to see
me. Such a beautiful little house as it is, with everything so bright
and new; with the flowers on the carpets looking as if freshly gathered,
and the green leaves on the paper as if they had just come out; with the
spotless muslin curtains, and the blushing rose-coloured furniture, and
Dora's garden hat with the blue ribbon--do I remember, now, how I loved
her in such another hat when I first knew her!--already hanging on its
little peg; the guitar-case quite at home on its heels in a corner;
and everybody tumbling over Jip's pagoda, which is much too big for the
establishment. Another happy evening, quite as unreal as all the rest
of it, and I steal into the usual room before going away. Dora is not
there. I suppose they have not done trying on yet. Miss Lavinia peeps
in, and tells me mysteriously that she will not be long. She is rather
long, notwithstanding; but by and by I hear a rustling at the door, and
someone taps.

I say, 'Come in!' but someone taps again.

I go to the door, wondering who it is; there, I meet a pair of bright
eyes, and a blushing face; they are Dora's eyes and face, and Miss
Lavinia has dressed her in tomorrow's dress, bonnet and all, for me to
see. I take my little wife to my heart; and Miss Lavinia gives a little
scream because I tumble the bonnet, and Dora laughs and cries at once,
because I am so pleased; and I believe it less than ever.

'Do you think it pretty, Doady?' says Dora.

Pretty! I should rather think I did.

'And are you sure you like me very much?' says Dora.

The topic is fraught with such danger to the bonnet, that Miss Lavinia
gives another little scream, and begs me to understand that Dora is only
to be looked at, and on no account to be touched. So Dora stands in a
delightful state of confusion for a minute or two, to be admired; and
then takes off her bonnet--looking so natural without it!--and runs away
with it in her hand; and comes dancing down again in her own familiar
dress, and asks Jip if I have got a beautiful little wife, and whether
he'll forgive her for being married, and kneels down to make him stand
upon the cookery-book, for the last time in her single life.

I go hom