“Now, Mr. Withers, you are very happy, or you _ought_ to be, as folks call the bridegroom ‘_the_ happy man,’ and you ought to be willing for other people who are not ‘happy’ at least to be _merry_, poor souls. Now we young folks who are not brides and bridegrooms want to console ourselves by dancing—there! and you are worse than ‘the dog in the manger’ if you don’t let us dance.” Mr. Withers answered, “There is a higher authority than my own, present, Miss Rogers; I refer you to the bishop.” The girl’s head slightly started back, and her eyes opened in an awe-struck gaze _an instant_, as she turned to look upon the high dignitary of the church. To Sophie’s sorrowing vision he had seemed the dark minister of a dark fate; to the merry maiden as she now looked at him, he appeared a jolly old gentleman enough, so she smiled merrily, and tripped up to him, and said with saucy shyness, “I say, Dr. Otterback, we all—we girls—want to dance; _Solomon_ danced, you know; now have you any objection?” The old gentleman took her chin in his fat hand and made her little teeth chatter like a pair of castanets, while looking down in her young face with a merry, genial kindness, he said— “Yes, child! a very _serious_ objection.” “Oh! Dr. Otterback, _now_, I don’t believe it; what is it? David danced, you know, and I never feel so happy, or thank God so much for making me, as when I am dancing; _now_, Dr. Otterback, what objection _can_ you have?” “A very serious one, my child, I tell you—_this_—the sound of a fiddle plays upon my feet and legs like the fingers of little Miss Rogers upon the piano keys—sets them in motion; can’t help it; the merriment and the wickedness bubbles up from the bottom of my heart, and the old man Adam grows too strong for me; now you wouldn’t have me pirouetting and pigeon-winging it all around this room, would you?” “Wouldn’t I? I should love churches and bishops better all my life after,” laughed the maiden. He shook his head, patted her rosy cheek, and sent her off. The rooms were crowded and close, though all the windows and doors were open; the night was warm, and the moon was shining brightly out of doors. At last one and then another couple began to stroll out into the lawn and garden. As a matter of etiquette the bridal party kept their seats much longer; all, except the little bridesmaid, Miss Rogers, who never minded etiquette; she mingled with the company on the lawn, until Mrs. Gardiner Green seeing her said— “I am astonished at you, Miss Rogers; return to your post.”