This was obviously true.  William, his feet once more installed on the mantelpiece, pulling hard at his pipe (filled for him by Marion’s loving hands) was a picture of perfect contentment.

But it was some time before I ventured to put the question to him that was uppermost in my thoughts.

‘Are you happy, William?’ I asked tensely when, for a moment, we were alone.  ‘Was my advice for better or for worse?’

He took my hand and wrung it warmly.  ‘My dear Netta!’ he exclaimed, ’what a fool I was to hesitate even for a moment.  Had it not been for you—­and, I think I ought to add, Elizabeth—­I might never have won such a treasure as my dear Marion.  “Marriage,” as Dr. Johnson has said, “is the best state for man in general,” and although he added that it is more necessary to a man than a woman as he is less able to supply himself with domestic comforts, I think in that case it is put too crudely.  I look upon it as something higher and nobler.’

‘That’s all right, then,’ I said, relieved.  ’Dr. Johnson seems to have as sound a philosophy as Elizabeth.’

As I sat meditating before the fire that evening, after the departure of the happy couple, Elizabeth entered.  Her face betokened anxiety.  ’You—­you—­didn’t tell ’em anything, I ‘ope?’ she demanded.

’Under the circumstances I did not, Elizabeth.  They seemed quite happy and so——­’

‘"Let sleepin’ dogs lie,"’ she supplemented.

‘You seem able to lie a great deal more than sleeping dogs,’ I said severely.  ’In future, remember to stick to the truth or you may get yourself—­and other people—­into serious trouble.’

’Right-o, ’m.  But Mr. Roarings seemed satisfied enough.  Look wot ’e gave me to-day?’—­she held out two crisp banknotes. ’’E sed they were for my own troosoo,’ she added gleefully.

‘What, Elizabeth, are you going to be married next?’ asked Henry, as he strolled into the room at that moment.

’Well, I ain’t got a party in view as yet, sir.  But as I always ses, you never know wot a day may bring forth.  The Signs ’ave been good for me lately.  Isn’t there a sayin’ somewhere about not knowing the day nor the ’our when the young man may come along?  Well, I always think it’s best to be prepared, like.’

She went out, but returned a moment later bearing a tray in her hand.

‘What is this?’ I inquired.

’I thort p’raps you’d like to drink to the occashun of the ’appy ‘ome-coming in a nice glarss o’ stout,’ she explained.

I noted that there were three glasses.  ‘Elizabeth,’ I said coldly, ‘you are unduly familiar.  I protest——­’

‘Oh, hang it all, let’s be democratic,’ put in Henry, grinning.  ’It’s only your joie de vivre and natural bonhomie, isn’t it, Elizabeth?’

’Not ‘arf,’ replied Elizabeth.  ‘Well,’ she added a moment later as she raised her glass, ‘’ere’s to us, all of us, an’ may we never want nothin’, none of us—­nor me neither.’