ith Jim's, which had been brought down by Mr. Benedict,
were speedily loaded with the furniture, and Mike, picketing his horses
for the night, embarked with the rest, and all slept at Number Nine.

In three days Jim was to be married, and his cage was ready for his
bird. The stoop with its "settle," the ladder for posies, at the foot
of which the morning-glories were already planted, and the "cupalo," had
ceased to be dreams, and become realities. Still, it all seemed a dream
to Jim. He waked in the morning in his own room, and wondered whether he
were not dreaming. He went out upon his piazza, and saw the cabin in
which he had spent so many nights in his old simple life, then went off
and looked up at his house or ranged through the rooms, and experienced
the emotion of regret so common to those in similar circumstances, that
he could never again be what he had been, or be contented with what he
had been--that he had crossed a point in his life which his retiring
feet could never repass. It was the natural reaction of the long strain
of expectation which he had experienced, and would pass away; but while
it was upon him he mourned over the death of his old self, and the
hopeless obliteration of his old circumstances.

Mr. Balfour had been written to, and would keep his promise to be
present at the wedding, with Mrs. Balfour and the boys. Sam Yates, at
Jim's request, had agreed to see to the preparation of an appropriate
outfit for the bridegroom. Such invitations had been given out as Miss
Butterworth dictated, and the Snow family was in a flutter of
expectation. Presents of a humble and useful kind had been pouring in
upon Miss Butterworth for days, until, indeed, she was quite
overwhelmed. It seemed as if the whole village were in a conspiracy of
beneficence.

In a final conference with Mrs. Snow, Miss Butterworth said:

"I don't know at all how he is going to behave, and I'm not going to
trouble myself about it; he shall do just as he pleases. He has made his
way with me, and if he is good enough for me, he is good enough for
other people. I'm not going to badger him into nice manners, and I'm
going to be just as much amused with him as anybody is. He isn't like
other people, and if he tries to act like other people, it will just
spoil him. If there's anything that I do despise above board, it's a
woman trying to train a man who loves her. If I were the man, I should
hate her."

CHAPTER XXII.

IN WHICH