house, for it
is so near the church, and nothing could prevent the younger ones from
thinking it all the most glorious fun. What with having been stuck fast,
and then coming on in the cart and finding us in the kitchen, and having
supper there, they were so delighted that they could not conceal their
ecstasy.

"As for little Anastasia, when the weights of the great kitchen clock
ran down, and it stopped with an awful sort of gasping click, I believe
she thought _that was the wedding_, for she ran up to St. George, who
still sat on the dresser, and said--

"'Shan't we have another one to-morrow?'

"'No, you _stoopid_ little thing!' Bertie said. 'You know Cousin Val
won't come to do the marrying.'

"'But somebody must,' she went on, 'else we can't have our new _nopera_
cloaks and our satin frocks. Can't papa?'

"'No, papa doesn't wish,' said Bertie; 'I asked him.'

"'Then,' she said, looking up at St. George, and speaking in a very
pathetic tone, 'you will, _dear_, won't you? because you know you're so
kind.'

"I just happened to glance at St. George then, and you can't think,
Laura, how astonished I was. He turned away his face, and sister, who
was standing close by, lifted up the child and let her kiss him. Then he
got down from the dresser and went away; but, Laura, if he had wished
more than anything in the world to marry Dorothea, he might have looked
just so.

"Don't tell any one what I have said about this. Perhaps I was mistaken.
I will write again soon.

"Ever affectionately yours,

"Elizabeth Grant."

"Well," said Mrs. Melcombe, "it's the most disgraceful thing I ever
heard of."

"And here is a postscript," remarked Laura; "nothing particular,
though:--'P.S.--Dorothea was ill at first; but she is better. I must
tell you that dear old Grand, the next morning, apologized to sister for
having so lost his temper; he said it was the old Adam that was strong
in him still.'"

CHAPTER XII.

VALENTINE.

"If he had known where he was going to fall, he could have put down
straw."--_Russian Proverb._

Laura wrote with difficulty an answer to Lizzy Grant's letter. It is
easier for the sister to say, "My brother is a dishonourable young
fellow, and has behaved shamefully," than for the friend to answer
without offence, "I quite agree with you."

But the next letter made matters in some degree easier, for it at least
showed the direction that his family gave to the excuses they now
offer