Jane Adams, who comes all out of breath to redeem a solemn promise
of taking her in, under cover of the confusion, to see the
breakfast table spread forth in state, and--sight of sights!--her
young mistress ready dressed for church.

And there, in good truth, when they have stolen up-stairs on tip-
toe and edged themselves in at the chamber-door--there is Miss Emma
'looking like the sweetest picter,' in a white chip bonnet and
orange flowers, and all other elegancies becoming a bride, (with
the make, shape, and quality of every article of which the girl is
perfectly familiar in one moment, and never forgets to her dying
day)--and there is Miss Emma's mamma in tears, and Miss Emma's papa
comforting her, and saying how that of course she has been long
looking forward to this, and how happy she ought to be--and there
too is Miss Emma's sister with her arms round her neck, and the
other bridesmaid all smiles and tears, quieting the children, who
would cry more but that they are so finely dressed, and yet sob for
fear sister Emma should be taken away--and it is all so affecting,
that the two servant-girls cry more than anybody; and Jane Adams,
sitting down upon the stairs, when they have crept away, declares
that her legs tremble so that she don't know what to do, and that
she will say for Miss Emma, that she never had a hasty word from
her, and that she does hope and pray she may be happy.

But Jane soon comes round again, and then surely there never was
anything like the breakfast table, glittering with plate and china,
and set out with flowers and sweets, and long-necked bottles, in
the most sumptuous and dazzling manner. In the centre, too, is the
mighty charm, the cake, glistening with frosted sugar, and
garnished beautifully. They agree that there ought to be a little