“Bless us all!” she said, “is it a reason that no one should dare to speak, because you are Mrs. Arthur Curtis?” But it was not a moment to quarrel. And when after the meal which Mrs. Bates had thought Lady Curtis would call a luncheon, the mother and sisters left the table with the bride, in a body, to change her dress, according to the well-understood formula of marriages, there was nothing but affection and tears, as is becoming at such a moment. There were no strangers present at the meal. It had been the strong desire of Sarah Jane that Mr. Raisins should be invited, he who it was understood was likely to cause another “wedding in the family” before long. But this had not been permitted, partly on account of Arthur, partly because there was no room. “We must have your Uncle Sam, and how are we to squeeze in another?” Mrs. Bates had asked; and all Sarah Jane’s indignant protestations about the impossibility of a wedding “without one young man,” were silenced by the physical impossibility. The limited number of the party thus took away much of the supposed festive character from the repast. But for the wedding cake on the table, it might have been a very ordinary domestic dinner; and even Sarah Jane’s pink muslin was of little use to her, and had no effect to speak of upon her spirits. To be sure there were a few people coming to tea, whatever consolation might be got from that. The little parlour was hot and stuffy with eight people seated round the table; and no effort that Arthur could make could keep from his mind a sense of the grotesque incongruity of the scene. People who were passing peered in at the window to see the wedding party, and get a glimpse of the bride. Arthur had found the parlour an earthly paradise at almost every other hour; but he had not been in the habit of coming at this hour. He had never even seen the family at their early dinner; and to have his health drank by Uncle Sam from Wapping was a new experience to him. “I hope as you’ll both be happy, Mr. Curtis, and that you’ll have every satisfaction in Nancy,” said Mr. Sam Bates, solemnly drinking a glass of the brown and filmy port which they all pledged the bride and bridegroom in. He looked at her as if she had been an article just sold, with a calculation of all the uses she might be put to, as he hoped she would give satisfaction. “I have heard a deal of my niece Nancy, and I know she’s had a many advantages,” he said. “I hope she’ll act up to them, Mr. Curtis, and give you every satisfaction in the married state.”