CHAPTER LIX.

JOE THOROUGHBUNG’S WEDDING.

While some men die others are marrying.  While the funeral dirge was pealing sadly at Tretton, the joyful marriage-bells were ringing both at Buntingford and Buston.  Joe Thoroughbung, dressed all in his best, was about to carry off Molly Annesley to Rome previous to settling down to a comfortable life of hunting and brewing in his native town.  Miss Thoroughbung sent her compliments to Mrs. Annesley.  Would her brother be there?  She thought it probable that Mr. Prosper would not be glad to see her.  She longed to substitute “Peter” for Mr. Prosper, but abstained.  In such case she would deny herself the pleasure of “seeing Joe turned off.”  Then there was an embassy sent to the Hall.  The two younger girls went with the object of inviting Uncle Prosper, but with a desire at their hearts that Uncle Prosper might not come.  “I presume the family at Buntingford will be represented?” Uncle Prosper had asked.  “Somebody will come, I suppose,” said Fanny.  Then Uncle Prosper had sent down a pretty jewelled ring, and said that he would remain in his room.  His health hardly permitted of his being present with advantage.  So it was decided that Miss Thoroughbung should come, and every one felt that she would be the howling spirit,—­if not at the ceremony, at the banquet which would be given afterward.

Miss Thoroughbung was not the only obstacle, had the whole been known.  Young Soames, the son of the attorney with whom Mr. Prosper had found it so evil a thing to have to deal, was to act as Joe’s best man.  Mr. Prosper learned this, probably, from Matthew, but he never spoke of it to the family.

It was a sad disgrace in his eyes that any Soames should have been so far mixed up with the Prosper blood.  Young Algy Soames was in himself a very nice sort of young fellow, who liked a day’s hunting when he could be spared out of his father’s office, and whose worst fault was that he wore loud cravats.  But he was an abomination to Mr. Prosper, who had never seen him.  As it was, he carried himself very mildly on this occasion.

“It’s a pity we’re not to have two marriages at the same time,” said Mr. Crabtree, a clerical wag from the next parish.  “Don’t you think so, Mrs. Annesley?” Mrs. Annesley was standing close by, as was also Miss Thoroughbung, but she made no answer to the appeal.  People who understood anything knew that Mrs. Annesley would not be gratified by such an allusion.  But Mr. Crabtree was a man who understood nothing.

“The old birds never pair so readily as the young ones,” said Miss Thoroughbung.

“Old!  Who talks of being old?” said Mr. Crabtree.  “My friend Prosper is quite a boy.  There’s a good time coming, and I hope you’ll give way yet, Miss Thoroughbung.”