After it was all over,—and the bride had gone away, and the last shoe been thrown, while Miss Jule was removing rice from her neck, saying to a rather mournful relative, “Of course they will be happy, they can’t help it, for they not only like but dislike the same things,”—Tip appeared from upstairs with a crestfallen air, and in his mouth a white slipper, one that his idol had just discarded, which had dropped to the floor of her room.
Coming out on the porch, after several efforts he succeeded in sitting upright, a trick Letty had taught him in imitation of Hamlet, supporting his unsteady spine against the post. Then, as no Miss Letty came to applaud him, he dropped the slipper on the step as a challenge, and mounted guard over it until night came, when he carried it with him to bed unchidden.
“Mistress,” said Waddles, as he sat watching her that night while she put away her trinkets, and brushed and braided her hair, “I wish that I hadn’t eaten so much of that round black lumpy cheese that Miss Letty cut with the great knife.”
“So do I,” said Anne, with a sigh; “but then, Waddlekins, you see Mr. Hugh and Miss Letty will never be married to each other again, and we must be willing to bear a little pain inside for the sake of our friends!”
Then the Mayor of Dogtown and Diana his mistress slept the sleep of wedding cake, which is heavy with dreams!
Here end the Annals.
Four-Footed Americans and Their Kin