A momentary pause succeeds; the girl breaks suddenly from her sister and throws herself, sobbing, on her mother's neck.

The father steps hastily forward, and takes her husband's hand.

Friends crowd round to offer their hearty congratulations, and happiness and harmony again prevail.
As to the dinner, it's perfectly delightful--nothing goes wrong, and everybody is in the very best of spirits, and disposed to please and be pleased.

Grandpapa relates a circumstantial account of the purchase of the turkey, with a slight digression relative to the purchase of previous turkeys, on former Christmas-days, which grandmamma corroborates in the minutest particular.

Uncle George tells stories, and carves poultry, and takes wine, and jokes with the children at the side-table, and winks at the cousins that are making love, or being made love to, and exhilarates everybody with his good humour and hospitality; and when, at last, a stout servant staggers in with a gigantic pudding, with a sprig of holly in the top, there is such a laughing, and shouting, and clapping of little chubby hands, and kicking up of fat dumpy legs, as can only be equalled by the applause with which the astonishing feat of pouring lighted brandy into mince-pies, is received by the younger visitors.
Then the dessert!--and the wine!--and the fun! Such beautiful speeches, and _such_ songs, from aunt Margaret's husband, who turns out to be such a nice man, and _so_ attentive to grandmamma! Even grandpapa not only sings his annual song with unprecedented vigour, but on being honoured with an unanimous _encore_, according to annual custom, actually comes out with a new one which nobody but grandmamma ever heard before; and a young scapegrace of a cousin, who has been in some disgrace with the old people, for certain heinous sins of omission and commission--neglecting to call, and persisting in drinking Burton Ale--astonishes everybody into convulsions of laughter by volunteering the most extraordinary comic songs that ever were heard.