Let it not be imagined that Miss Ferret's was a sinecure office, during this season of occupation. On the contrary, her dwelling in the market-place might be styled the very centre, heart, or focus, of these interesting proceedings. Her drawing room was the place of congress for dress-makers, stay-makers, shoe-makers, and plain workers, while her bed-chamber was the repository of boxes and bundles without end or measure, from town and country. These same apartments were likewise the scene of all the putting off, and trying on: the fault-finding and approval; the lively criticism on shapes and colours; fashionable and unfashionable, becoming and unbecoming, which naturally belongs most peculiarly to that period of grand climacteric in a lady's wardrobe, which Miss Robinson's was now to undergo; not to mention that Henbury Lodge, being out of the mail-coach line, Miss Ferret's abode was, moreover, a bank of deposit for innumerable and cumbersome packages from tailors, hatters, hosiers, "_et hoc genus_," &c. insomuch that the painstaking partisan, to whose official exertions this chapter is principally indebted for its subject, might be justly compared to the supple animal whose name she bore, when, with all its prying energies elate, and with persevering industry prosecuting its vocation in the bowels of the earth, the light crumbling soil falls in on every side, and incloses the ferret's slender form, overwhelmed in the destruction which itself had worked. But as it is not requisite to the appositeness of a simile that the analogy should agree in all its parts, we are happy to think that _our_ Ferret had well grounded prospect of outliving her temporary sepulture, and hailing the bright beam of Hymen's torch to guide her through the lumbering piles of paper parcels by which she was almost suffocated; though it must on the other hand be confessed that, after she had leisure to reflect in the still hour of retirement on that busy crisis, she has been frequently heard to say, that nothing short of the most devoted friendship could possibly have sustained her; and in after times Mr. and Mrs. Hartland were often reminded of all they owed to her unwearied zeal. As Miss Ferret studied the _portable_ in all things, her wisdom was condensed in aphorisms, amongst which, "there is a time for all things," instructed her to choose the period of Christmas more especially for stirring up the memory, and the gratitude of her friends, when a plenitude of game, mince-pies, spiced meats, bottled ale, and other seasonable reflections, furnished festive opportunity of lightening a burthen on the heart, by reciprocating obligations on the stomach. "Turn about is fair play," was another maxim which lent its aid on these occasions.