One of the “men” at Mr. Eagles’ turned round, hearing every word of this speech, and grinned, Arthur thought, in derision. “Don’t wait for me,” he said, faintly. “Go on, please, and I will follow. There are a great many things to be looked after, and I must see what sort of rooms they have given us. Go on, and never mind me.” “Oh, if you’re too fine to walk down Underhayes with your own sister-in-law!” cried Sarah Jane; and to Arthur’s great relief she took offence, and rushed after her mother and sisters, calling this time, “Nancy! Nancy! stop a bit, I’m coming.” The “man” lingered till she was gone, perhaps with a little pity for the bridegroom. He was a happy boy of twenty, working his eyes out for the Indian Civil examination, who had always been accustomed to think that his was rather a hard case, and that Curtis was a great “swell.” “How d’ye do, Curtis? Can I look after these things for you?” he said, coming up shyly. Arthur made haste to clear every sign of cloudy weather from his downcast face. “It is a bother looking after them,” he said; “my first try, you know--and one loses one’s temper. Still grinding hard, I suppose?” “Harder and harder! Eagles gets more mad every day. What lucky fellows some people are!” said the young man with a little sigh, as he nodded and turned away. Arthur felt himself echo the sigh. Was it he that was the lucky fellow? He had thought so too when he left Underhayes, carrying with him the bride for whom he had felt willing to relinquish all the world. This is an easy thing enough to say. To relinquish all the world, and carry one’s Nancy off into some flowery Eden where nobody could intermeddle with one’s bliss--ah, yes; but the Bates family! They, it was evident would not permit themselves to be relinquished like all the world. Arthur walked at his leisure, glad to defer the moment of reunion, down to the inn, and saw his rooms and deposited his luggage. Perhaps Nancy had a right to be angry when at last he followed her. They had waited till the chicken and sausages were nearly cold; but by this time they were in the middle of their meal, Mr. Bates already in his slippers at the foot of the table when Arthur arrived. The little parlour was hot and close, full of mingled odours; they were all a little flushed, what with the unusual warmth, what with the meal. Nancy herself had been placed next to the fire, as the traveller to whom the best place was necessarily given, and she was crimson with excitement, pleasure, anger, and the stifling atmosphere all combined. The voices all ceased when Arthur came in. “I think you might have paid my mother the respect of coming directly,” said Nancy in high tones. “Oh, hush, dear, hush! I am sure Arthur didn’t mean any rudeness,” said Mrs. Bates.