“He shall go the whole hog,” she had said.  And there had been a little bet about it between her and her brother, who entertained an idea that Mr. Prosper was an obstinate man.  And Joe had brought tidings of the bet to the parsonage, so that there had been much commotion on the subject.  When the best room had been included, and then the dressing-room, even Matthew had been alarmed.  “It’ll come to as much as five hundred pounds!” he had whispered to Mrs. Annesley.  Matthew seemed to think that it was quite time that there should be somebody to control his master.  “Why, ma’am, it’s only the other day, because I can remember it myself, when that loo-table came into the house new!” Matthew had been in the place over twenty years.  When Mrs. Annesley reminded him that fashions were changed, and that other kinds of table were required, he only shook his head.

But there was a question more vital than that of expense.  How was the new furniture to be chosen?  The first idea was that Florence should be invited to spend a week at her future home, and go up and down to London with either Mrs. Annesley or her brother, and select the furniture herself.  But there were reasons against this.  Mr. Prosper would like to surprise her by the munificence of what he did.  And the suggestion of one day was sure to wane before the stronger lights of the next.  Mr. Prosper, though he intended to be munificent, was still a little afraid that it should be thrown away as a thing of course, or that it should appear to have been Harry’s work.  That would be manifestly unjust.  “I think I had better do it myself,” he said to his sister.

“Perhaps I could help you, Peter.”  He shuddered; but it was at the memory of the sound of the word “Peter,” as it had been blurted out for his express annoyance by Miss Thoroughbung.  “I wouldn’t mind going up to London with you.”  He shook his head, demanding still more time for deliberation.  Were he to accept his sister’s offer he would be bound by his acceptance.  “It’s the last drawing-room carpet I shall ever buy,” he said to himself, with true melancholy, as he walked back home across the park.

Then there had been the other grand question of the journey, or not, down to Cheltenham.  In a good-natured way Harry had told him that the wedding would be no wedding without his presence.  That had moved him considerably.  It was very desirable that the wedding should be more than a merely legal wedding.  The world ought to be made aware that the heir to Buston had been married in the presence of the Squire of Buston.  But the journey was a tremendous difficulty.  If he could have gone from Buston direct to Cheltenham it would have been comparatively easy.  But he must pass through London, and to do this must travel the whole way between the Northern and Western railway-stations.  And the trains would not fit.  He studied his Bradshaw for an entire morning and found that they would not fit.  “Where am I to spend the