Sunday best. He had on new yellow kid gloves. His coat, if not
new, was newer than any Mrs. Thompson had yet observed, and was
lined with silk up to the very collar. He had on patent leather
boots, which glittered, as Mrs. Thompson thought, much too
conspicuously. And as for his hat, it was quite evident that it was
fresh that morning from the maker's block.

In this costume, with his hat in his hand, he stood under the great
gateway of the hotel, ready to hand Mrs. Thompson into the carriage.
This would have been nothing if the landlord and landlady had not
been there also, as well as the man-cook, and the four waiters, and
the fille de chambre. Two or three other pair of eyes Mrs. Thompson
also saw, as she glanced round, and then Mimmy walked across the
yard in her best clothes with a fete-day air about her for which her
mother would have liked to have whipped her.

But what did it matter? If it was written in the book that she
should become Madame Lacordaire, of course the world would know that
there must have been some preparatory love-making. Let them have
their laugh; a good husband would not be dearly purchased at so
trifling an expense. And so they sallied forth with already half
the ceremony of a wedding.

Mimmy seated herself opposite to her mother, and M. Lacordaire also
sat with his back to the horses, leaving the second place of honour
for Lilian. "Pray make yourself comfortable, M. Lacordaire, and
don't mind her," said Mrs. Thompson. But he was firm in his purpose
of civility, perhaps making up his mind that when he should in truth
stand in the place of papa to the young lady, then would be his time
for having the back seat in the carnage.