anybody to see him. Ay, here they come."
Miss Christie seldom saw anything to admire in her own sex. Valentine
looked down the aisle; his sister was coming, and John Mortimer's
twin-daughters, her only bridesmaids, behind her.

The children behaved very well, though it was said afterwards that a
transaction took place at that moment between Bertie and Hugh, in the
course of which several large scarlet-runner beans were exchanged for
some acorns; also that when John Mortimer moved down the aisle to meet
his bride little Anastasia, seizing Mrs. Henfrey's gown to steady
herself, thrust out her crutch toward Valentine, that he might have the
privilege of again admiring it.

The peculiarity of this wedding, distinguishing it from others where
love is, was the measureless contentment of the future step-children.
"Nothing new in this family," observed Mrs. Henfrey. "When Emily's
mother came here, all her children took to my father directly, and loved
him as if he had been their own."

Emily had been married from her brother's house, Valentine's old home,
and in the dining-room there was spread a wedding breakfast. The room
looked nearly as it had done when Valentine should have appeared to be a
bridegroom himself; but he did not know this so well as Dorothea did;
yet he felt exceedingly sheepish, and was only consoled by observing
that she also was a good deal out of countenance, and scarcely knew
whether to blush or to smile when she spoke to him or met his eyes.

So the ceremony of the breakfast well over, and John Mortimer and his
wife departed, Valentine was very glad to take leave of his family and
walk across the fields with Johnnie. He did this partly to while away
the time before his train started, partly to see Swan, who, with Mrs.
Swan in gorgeous array, was found walking about the garden, her husband
showing her the plants and flowers, and enlarging on their perfections.

"But how can I find time for it, even on this noble occasion, Mr.
Melcombe, my wife's just been saying, is a wonder, for that long new
conservatory all down the front of the house will take a sight of
filling--filled it shall be, and with the best, for if ever there was a
lady as deserved the best, it's Mrs. John Mortimer. I'm sorry now I
burnt so many of my seedlings."

"Burnt them, Nicholas?"

"Why yes, sir," said Mrs. Swan, "when he used to be sitting up with Mr.
Johnnie, he had plenty of time to think, and he did it."

Johnnie being n