He stood back and smiled and bowed with arms extended as the others came clustering at the door. "Why, _Un_-_clé_ Voules!" cried Annie, with a rising note. It was his reward. And then came a great wedging and squeezing and crowding into the little room. Nearly everyone was hungry, and eyes brightened at the sight of the pie and the ham and the convivial array of bottles. "Sit down everyone," cried Mr. Voules, "leaning against anything counts as sitting, and makes it easier to shake down the grub!" The two friends from Miriam's place of business came into the room among the first, and then wedged themselves so hopelessly against Johnson in an attempt to get out again and take off their things upstairs that they abandoned the attempt. Amid the struggle Mr. Polly saw Uncle Pentstemon relieve himself of his parcel by giving it to the bride. "Here!" he said and handed it to her. "Weddin' present," he explained, and added with a confidential chuckle, "_I_ never thought I'd '_ave_ to give you one--ever." "Who says steak and kidney pie?" bawled Mr. Voules. "Who says steak and kidney pie? You '_ave_ a drop of old Tommy, Martha. That's what you want to steady you.... Sit down everyone and don't all speak at once. Who says steak and kidney pie?..." "Vocificeratious," whispered Mr. Polly. "Convivial vocificerations." "Bit of 'am with it," shouted Mr. Voules, poising a slice of ham on his knife. "Anyone '_ave_ a bit of 'am with it? Won't that little man of yours, Mrs. Punt--won't 'e '_ave_ a bit of 'am?..." "And now ladies and gentlemen," said Mr. Voules, still standing and dominating the crammed roomful, "now you got your plates filled and something I can warrant you good in your glasses, wot about drinking the 'ealth of the bride?" "Eat a bit fust," said Uncle Pentstemon, speaking with his mouth full, amidst murmurs of applause. "Eat a bit fust." So they did, and the plates clattered and the glasses chinked. Mr. Polly stood shoulder to shoulder with Johnson for a moment. "In for it," said Mr. Polly cheeringly. "Cheer up, O' Man, and peck a bit. No reason why _you_ shouldn't eat, you know." The Punt boy stood on Mr. Polly's boots for a minute, struggling violently against the compunction of Mrs. Punt's grip. "Pie," said the Punt boy, "Pie!" "You sit 'ere and '_ave_ 'am, my lord!" said Mrs. Punt, prevailing. "Pie you can't '_ave_ and you won't." "Lor bless my heart, Mrs. Punt!" protested Mr. Voules, "let the boy '_ave_ a bit if he wants it--wedding and all!" "You 'aven't 'ad 'im sick on your 'ands, Uncle Voules," said Mrs. Punt. "Else you wouldn't want to humour his fancies as you do...." "I can't help feeling it's a mistake, O' Man," said Johnson, in a confidential undertone. "I can't help feeling you've been Rash. Let's hope for the best." "Always glad of good wishes, O' Man," said Mr. Polly. "You'd better have a drink of something. Anyhow, sit down to it."