George laughs, 'I happened to see it put out for inspection in your room.' 'My room, what were you doing there?' begins Mabel, but he has departed. 'What can he have been doing?' she says. 'Go and see,' suggests Lippa, and Mabel filled with curiosity, hastens upstairs, but returns again in a minute. 'Look, what the dear thing has given me,' she cries, holding up a little blue velvet case, 'I must go and thank him,' and down she goes to the smoking-room, 'George, you dear old boy,' she says, hugging him round the neck, 'isn't it lovely,' she goes on, turning to Philippa who has followed her. 'It is indeed,' says she, carefully examining the moonstone set in diamonds. 'Did you choose it yourself, George?' 'Didn't give me credit for so much taste, eh?' 'No, I don't think I did,' replies Lippa, quietly slipping out of the room. She wants to be alone, to think a little, it all seems so strange and lovely; this time to-morrow she will be Mrs Dalrymple--Mrs Dalrymple! how funny it sounds--and Jimmy will be all her own, and they will go away together;--and she sinks into a dream of delight, seeing the future only as a golden mist through which she and her husband will pass side by side. And she suddenly falls upon her knees, and buries her golden head in her hands, and breathes forth an earnest prayer of heartfelt gratitude to the great God who orders all things. 'The Divinity that shapes our ends, Rough hew them as we will.' The next morning, her wedding day, dawns at length; the first thing she hears are some sparrows chirping outside, and anxious to see if it is fine, she goes to the window and draws up the blind, letting in a whole flood of crimson light. It is one of those lovely days in London when there is just a little breath of wind stirring among the trees that prevents it from being sultry, and everyone seems to expand to the warmth and look happy. It is still quite early, two or three costermongers' carts are being wheeled along by their owners, fresh from Covent Garden; a lark belonging to the house opposite is singing merrily despite its small cage, and Lippa smiles as she recalls the old saying, 'Blessed is the bride whom the sun shines on.' As sleep seems impossible and rather loud voices are heard from overhead, she throws a loose wrapper round her and goes up to the nurseries. Teddy is in his bath and no power on earth can persuade him to get out, in vain Marie gesticulates and calls him '_Un bien mechant gamin_,' Teddy knows he has the best of it, as whenever she comes near he throws water at her. 'Oh, Teddy! Teddy!' exclaims Philippa, opening the door, 'do be a good boy, or else you know, you could not be my page.' Teddy, surprised at his aunt's sudden appearance, ceases to splash about and regards her gravely. 'I shall be your page if I'm good then,' he says. 'Certainly,' replies Philippa, 'get out of the bath now and after your breakfast you shall come to my room.'