ooking either; and then the
young lady would inform Miss Martin, in confidence, that how one of their
young ladies was engaged to a young man and was a-going to be married,
and Missis was so proud about it there was no bearing of her; but how she
needn't hold her head quite so high neither, for, after all, he was only
a clerk. And, after expressing due contempt for clerks in general, and
the engaged clerk in particular, and the highest opinion possible of
themselves and each other, Miss Martin and the young lady in service
would bid each other good night, in a friendly but perfectly genteel
manner: and the one went back to her 'place,' and the other, to her room
on the second-floor front.

There is no saying how long Miss Amelia Martin might have continued this
course of life; how extensive a connection she might have established
among young ladies in service; or what amount her demands upon their
quarterly receipts might have ultimately attained, had not an unforeseen
train of circumstances directed her thoughts to a sphere of action very
different from dressmaking or millinery.

A friend of Miss Martin's who had long been keeping company with an
ornamental painter and decorator's journeyman, at last consented (on
being at last asked to do so) to name the day which would make the
aforesaid journeyman a happy husband. It was a Monday that was appointed
for the celebration of the nuptials, and Miss Amelia Martin was invited,
among others, to honour the wedding-dinner with her presence. It was a
charming party; Somers-town the locality, and a front parlour the
apartment. The ornamental painter and decorator's journeyman had taken a
house--no lodgings nor vulgarity of that kind, but a house--four
beautiful rooms, and a delightful little washhouse at the end of the
passage--which was the most convenient thing in the world, for the
bridesmaids could sit in the front parlour and receive the company, and
then run into the little washhouse and see how the pudding and boiled
pork were getting on in the copper, and then pop back into the parlour
again, as snug and comfortable as possible. And such a parlour as it
was! Beautiful Kidderminster carpet--six bran-new cane-bottomed stained
chairs--three wine-glasses and a tumbler on each sideboard--farmer's girl
and farmer's boy on the mantelpiece: girl tumbling over a stile, and boy
spitting himself, on the handle of a pitchfork--long white dimity
curtains in the window--and, i