emember there are ladies present!" cried the outraged Mrs.
Bindle from the other side of the table.

"It's all right, Mrs. B.," said Bindle reassuringly. "These was
gentlemen twins."

The meal progressed solemn and joyless. Few remarks were made, but
much food and drink was consumed. Bindle made a point of cutting both
the pineapples that adorned the table, delighting in the anguish he
saw on Mr. Hearty's face.

"If they only 'ad a drink," groaned Bindle, "it would sort o' wake 'em
up; but wot can you do on lemonade and glass-ginger. Can't even 'ave
stone-ginger, because they're sort of afraid it might make 'em tight."

When everyone had eaten to repletion, Mr. Hearty cast a glance round
and then, with the butt-end of a knife, rapped loudly on the table.
There was a sudden hush. Mr. Hearty looked intently at Mr. Sopley, who
was far away engaged in a contemplation of heaven, via the ceiling.
Bindle began to clap, which brought Mr. Sopley back to earth.

Seeing what was required of him, he rose with ponderous solemnity and,
in his best "grief-and-woe" manner, proceeded to propose the health of
the bride in a sepulchral voice, reminiscent of a damp Church of
England service in the country.

"Dear friends." He raised a pair of anguished eyes to the green and
yellow paper festoons that trailed from the electrolier above the
dining-table to various picture nails in the walls. He paused, his
lips moving slowly and impressively, then aloud he continued:

"Dear friends, of all the ceremonies that attend our brief stay in
this vale of tears, marriage is infinitely the most awful--("'Ear,
'ear!" from Bindle, and murmurs of "Hush!"). It is a contract entered
into--er--er--in the sight of heaven; but with--er--er--the Almighty's
blessing it may be a linking of hands of two of--er--God's creatures
as they pass down the--er--er--valley of the shadow of death to
eternal and lasting salvation." Mr. Sopley paused.

"'Ere, I say, sir," broke in Bindle. "Cheer up, this ain't a funeral."

There were murmurs of "Husssssssssh!" Mrs. Hearty began to cry
quietly. Mr. Hearty appeared portentously solemn, Mrs. Bindle looked
almost cheerful.

"We see two young people," resumed Mr. Sopley, having apparently
renewed his store of ideas from a further contemplation of the
ceiling, "on the threshold of life, with all its disappointments and
temptations, all its sin and misery, all its fears and misgivings. We
know that--we know--we have evi