Hanny went up to see the new house one Saturday. The front basement was to be the office, and was being fitted up with some shelves and cabinets. The back basement was the kitchen. There were two large parlors and a third room, that was the dining-room. And one thing interested the little girl greatly,--this was the "dumb waiter." "Of course it can't talk," said she, laughingly. "And it can't hear; but you can make it obey." "It can creak and groan when it gets dry for a little oil. And it will be like a camel if you put too heavy a load on it," returned the Doctor. "Does the camel groan?" "Horribly! And he won't stir an inch toward getting up until you lighten his load." There was a pretty pantry across the corner, with a basin to wash china and silver, so it would not need to go downstairs. Hanny thought she would like to come sometime and wash the pretty dishes. Upstairs there were three rooms and a bath, and beautiful closets, and on the third floor three rooms again. "But what will you do with all of them?" asked Hanny. Margaret had said the same thing to her lover. And Mrs. Underhill said it was an awful extravagance to have such a great house for two people. But John Underhill declared Dr. Hoffman had done just the right thing, buying up-town. He would settle himself in a first-class practice presently, as the well-to-do people kept moving thither. There had been a good deal of discussion about the wedding. Dr. Hoffman wanted to take Margaret to Baltimore, where his married sister resided, and an aunt, his mother's sister, who was too feeble to undertake a journey. They would go on to Washington as well. Wedding journeys were not imperative, but often taken. An evening party at home seemed too much for Mrs. Underhill; and Dolly, being in mourning, could not lead any gaieties. She cut the Gordian knot, however,--a church wedding, with cards for all the friends, and a reception at home. They would take the train at six from Jersey City. Mr. Underhill was rather sorry not to have an old-fashioned festivity. But Miss Cynthia said this was just the thing. So the marriage was at St. Thomas' church at two o'clock. A cousin of Dolly's and a school friend were bridesmaids, though Annette Beekman had been chosen. The bride wore a fine India mull that flowed around her like a fleecy cloud, Dolly's veil, and orange blossoms, for it was good luck to be married in something borrowed. The little girl headed the procession, carrying a basket of flowers, and looked daintily sweet.