“Yes, a good half million,” said the little shopwoman exultingly. Martin Barton whispered to his wife, and she wiped her tearful eyes, and laughed out aloud. “Excellent,” said she,—“ah, Jenny, you have had your day, now we’ll have ours; it is all settled, Jenny Hart, we have settled it all, and now I am getting sleepy again—so, good night.” What did Jenny do when the good couple left her? why she sent little Betty for Archy Campbell, and when he came in she pointed to a chair. “Archy Campbell,” said she, “I have never told you that this was the last day that Mr. and Mrs. Martin Barton were to be in the shop. They have left it entirely, and—and—it is yours—all yours, goods, shop, and all.” “And _you_, Jenny Hart,” said the young man, rising and standing before her, trembling with emotion. “I,” said she, rising also, and stepping to the door of the entry which led to the next house,—“I, why I am going to Camperdown with the family.” (Oh, Jenny Hart, Jenny Hart, how could you torment the young man in this way?) “Then the devil take the goods, the shop, and all,” said he, putting on his hat. “They may look out for another bridesman to-morrow, and so I will tell the young man. I had hoped that in time”— “They _are_ going to look out for another bridesman in your place,” said the provoking girl, breaking her heart, too, to see him so unhappy. “They went to see one of their friends an hour ago, and I am to have the two sweet girls for my bridesmaids, and you are to have both Jasper Merry and Alfred Gray for your bridesmen; so get yourself ready and”— “Jenny, dearest Jenny,” said he, approaching her, almost beside himself through hopes and fears, “are you in earnest? am I at last”—and he that had never wept since he left his mother, now covered his face and wept aloud. “Archy Campbell, I did not think you would be so greatly affected. Oh, how I have underrated every body! what a world we live in, myself the poorest in it. Here is my hand, dear Archy Campbell; it is so long since I gave you my heart that I forget I ever had one.” One embrace and the lovers parted; she tripped up, frightened to death at what she had done, and he threw his hat to the farthest end of the room in a transport of joy. So the carriages came to the door, and then first stepped in Mr. and Mrs. Martin Barton, Mrs. Armstrong and Mr. Norton, (they were married that day six months, and I was at the wedding,) and little Betty, who sat down between Martin Barton’s feet. Then, in the second carriage, stepped Rona, Jasper Merry, Ida, and Alfred Gray; then went Archy Campbell—no, I ought rather to say, then went Jenny Hart and Archy Campbell; he felt too deeply to wish for any other person near him at that moment but his own darling, Jenny Hart—let me call her so a little longer;—and, lastly, went the bridesmaids and bridesmen, who rattled away, and were the first to get at the church door to help the party out.