Bunting. Some said that Miss Jenny insisted on the latter step as a
badge of her perpetual sovereignty; some that it was a provision in her
father's will, the old gentleman having been heard to hope that none but
Buntings would ever inhabit the cottage; but while they disputed that
point the wedding came off with a liberal distribution of cards, cake,
and gloves, a breakfast, at which Mrs Captain Phipps presided, and an
excursion of three weeks to the Lakes; after which, Mr and Mrs Phipps
Bunting, having got a new door-plate, and an additional crest on the
spoons, settled down comfortably at home, where our story found them.

There they were duly visited and made due returns, even to their
uttermost acquaintance. Evening parties wore got up for their benefit,
as Westbourne gentility dictated. A few responses were given at the
cottage, and people learned to call them the Buntings. When these
occurrences and the talk concerning them were fairly over, it was
surprising how little things had altered. Mrs Phipps Bunting
superintended everything, from the napery in the drawers to the
bee-hives in the garden, with so much of her old and independent
activity, that people caught themselves occasionally calling her Miss
Jenny. As for her lord, he was Master Harry still. Matrimony made no
change in him. On Sundays he dressed himself and went to church with Mrs
Phipps Bunting. On week-days, he said he studied, paid little visits,
took small excursions, and came home to dinner. Even bachelors agreed
that he lived under the mildest form of gynecocracy. Mrs Captain Phipps
gave him good advices at the one end of the village, Mrs Phipps Bunting
kept him all right at the other; and between them an indescribable
amount of nobodyism grew and gathered around him.

Mr Phipps Bunting--as the best bred of his neighbours now endeavoured to
call him--was doubtless not less contented than most men in the married