“Just do it. " There was a brief, breathless pause. A hansom stopped a little way off. Young and old were dressed in their gayest apparel; and it was evident from the smiles that lighted up every countenance, from the roguish looks of the younger swains, and the demure expression of several pretty rustic maidens, that a ceremony, which never fails to interest all classes,—a wedding,—was about to take place. She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. “Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely.
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