There was no mistaking William Revitts' happiness as he helped his wife on to the outside of the omnibus, behind the coachman--he sitting one side of Mary, and I next him; but try as I would, I could not feel as happy. I felt vexed and mortified; for, somehow, it seemed as if it was printed in large letters upon the backs of my companions--"Married this morning," and this announcement seemed reflected upon me. I wouldn't have cared if they could have sat still and talked rationally; but this they did not do, for every now and then they turned to look in each other's faces, with the same weak, half-imbecile smile,--after which Mary would cast down her eyes and look conscious, while Revitts turned round and smiled at me, finishing off with a nudge in my side. At times, too, he had spasmodic fits of silent laughter--silent, except that they commenced with a loud chuckle, which he summarily stifled and took into custody by clapping his great hand over his mouth. There were intervals of relief, though; for when, from his coign of vantage, poor Bill saw one of his fraternity on ahead--revealed to him, perhaps, by a ray of sunshine flashing from the shiny top of his hat--for, of course, this was long before the days of helmets--the weak, amiable look was chased off his face by the official mask, and, as a sergeant, though of a different division, Revitts felt himself bound to stare very hard at the police-constable, and frown severely. At first I thought it was foolish pride on my part, that I was being spoiled by Miss Carr, and that I was extra sensitive about my friends; but I was not long in awakening to the fact that they were the objects of ridicule to all upon the omnibus. The first thing I noticed was, that the conductor and driver exchanged a wink and a grin, which were repeated several times between Piccadilly and Kensington, to the great amusement of several of the passengers. Then began a little mild chaff, sprinkled by the driver, who started with-- "I say, Joey, when are _you_ going to be married?" "Married? oh, I dunno. I've tried it on sev'ral times, but the parsons is all too busy." The innocent fit was on Revitts just then, and he favoured Mary and me with a left and right nudge. "Do adone, William," whispered Mrs Sergeant; and he grinned hugely. "Shall you take a public, Joey, when you do it?" said the driver, leaning back for another shot. "Lor', no; it won't run to a public, old man," was the reply. "We was thinking of the green and tater line, with a cellar under, and best Wallsend one and six." I could feel that this was all meant for the newly wedded couple, and sat with flaming cheeks. "See that there wedding in Pickydilly, last week, Bill?" Revitts pricked up his ears, and was about to speak, but the driver turned half round, and shouted-- "What, where they'd got straw laid down, and the knocker tied up in a white kid glove?"