That annoyed Mr. Bennet to no end - Longbourn was on the market and there were always people traipsing through. Mrs. Bennet kept to her rooms, however, writing away, and turning down every offer Hill brought to her from potential owners.

That irritated Hill, who had to run up and down the stairs constantly in an attempt to keep Mrs. Bennet informed. Not that it did any good, because the woman was up to her eyeballs in ink, pen, and paper and ignoring everything but her work and the amounts in the offers.

Her daughters, at a loss because their mother had not harped at them in days, did not know what to do without her. Her chair sat empty, the lacy handkerchiefs unused, the smelling salts bottles still full. It was as if she had passed away and everyone was afraid to touch her belongings. Which was ridiculous, because they saw her at some meals, her head bent over the paper and pen at her elbow. Jane was getting tired of having to cut her meat for her. And Lydia had begun to pray for the return of her mother's attention. They were kindred spirits within their family circle at Longbourn.

Mr. Bennet himself was at his wit's end trying to compensate for his wife's absence. The girls drew his attention away from his more pleasurable pastimes, such as attempting to derive the value of pi to the last decimal place. Things only got worse when a gentleman of some worth moved into the neighborhood. The girls were determined that their father should visit the newcomer so they would later be introduced to him; they left their father no peace. If only the man had let Longbourn instead of Netherfield, thought Mr. Bennet, perhaps he could have gotten some order back in his life, as well as his wife. To end the girls’ constant assault on his library, Mr. Bennet finally gave in and called on his new neighbor.

The entire family, minus Mrs. Bennet of course, had the pleasure of making the gentleman's acquaintance soon after, when Mr. Bennet was obliged, due to his wife's continued preoccupation, to escort four of his daughters to the Assembly Ball. Lydia refused to attend the ball and decided to remain at home. She had become quite the pious young lady since her mother had cloistered herself in the attic. Without constant reassurance and encouragement for silliness and impropriety, she had no choice but to abandon those pursuits! Now, she only regretted she could not convince any of her sisters to remain home from the ball as well. They were all no-good trollops, the lot of them, doomed to suffer the flames of hell for all eternity, for their sin and impropriety. She did convince them to wear modest lace shawls over their decolletages -- it was the only way she would allow them to leave the house. For her part, all she could do was remain home and pray devoutly for their souls . . . and their soles!

At the ball, Mr. Bennet's favorite daughter, Lizzy was especially taken with Mr. Bingley. Indeed, she was quite taken by the other two gentlemen that accompanied Mr. Bingley to the Ball, Mr. Darcy and Mr. Hurst. Truth be told, she was quite taken with every male at the ball between the ages of 14 and 90. She danced every dance but one, and stomped her foot in annoyance when she was obliged to sit that one out due to the lack of partners. During the entirety of that set she sulked in the corner paying no heed to anyone, until Mr. Goulding came and collected her for the next dance. One would think that Lizzy did not know how to act within the realm of propriety, and one would be right. Apparently Lizzy had used her mother as a gauge of inappropriate behavior. Without her mother’s bad example to avoid, Lizzy gravitated to it naturally.

Not only was poor Mr. Bennet's favourite daughter acting strangely out of character, but so was dear, sweet, gentle, serene, all trusting, beautiful Jane. She had not been at all eager to attend the assembly ball, saying it would just be a sad waste of time because of the lack of quality gentlemen. She refused to wear her loveliest gown, trading with Mary for one of hers. So Mary looked quite delightful while Jane appeared dowdy.

"Why should I encourage the attention of anyone beneath me?" she asked in pompous accents. At the ball she looked so coldly at everyone that it took fortitude to approach her. The icy expression reduced her beauty except to the most discerning.

"You really ought to let your hair down and dance!" said Lizzy, whose hair was well on its way to escaping the bounds of her coiffure and cascade over her shoulders.

"What! You are dancing with a grinning twit - his five thousand pounds isn't even tolerable. I'm not even in the mood to dance with that overbearing friend of his, for a paltry ten thousand a year. I'm setting my sights higher than that. Besides, I wouldn't trust him farther than I can throw him."

If the gentleman of the ten thousand a year heard Jane's remark, his aloof expression did not show it.

Needless to say, Jane danced with no one and she was heartily glad of it. "Stupid presumptuous lot!" her father heard her say.

Upon returning to Longbourn he appealed to his wife to intervene, citing Jane's alarming behaviour as reason enough, but all Mrs. Bennet would say was that it seemed Jane had her priorities straight.

As if his five demanding daughters were not trouble enough, some weeks later Mr. Bennet 's long lost cousin Mr. Collins invaded his home, bearing an olive branch and sniffing about for a new wife amongst his "five charming cousins." Normally Mr. Bennet would have found Mr. Collins' eccentricities amusing, but with his house in chaos, his patience and humor were worn rather thin. The thought of telling the man to take his pick and get himself and his choice out of the house as quickly as possible crossed Mr. Bennet 's mind more than once.

Lydia was very pleased with the arrival of Mr. Collins. She respected and esteemed him more than any of her sisters. He was duly impressed that she had memorized the entirety of Fordyce's Sermons and could recite any particular passage upon request. She hoped he would set an example of propriety in the house and shame her sisters into behaving like modest young ladies. But it was too much to hope for -- all they did was ignore Mr. Collins' lectures and mock his manners. They were lost.

Mr. Collins soon decided to set his sights on the eldest Miss Bennet, even if she always regarded him with a disdainful sneer - her expression reminded him of his patroness and who could be better for him than someone of her ilk? Besides, despite her dowdy gowns, Jane was so well formed as to make the idea of producing an heir with her very enticing. When he prostrated himself before her and expressed his undying love she laughed in his face (she had to crouch very low to do so, but she liked the idea of laughing in his face so much that she was willing to expend the energy). She then informed him that if he even tried to make a proposal to any one of her sisters, he would have to deal with her. The malevolent gleam in her eyes frightened him so much that he ran all the way to Lucas Lodge with his tail between his legs, and we all know what transpired on that account.

Mr. Bennet was shocked that the answer to the problem of the entail had been eliminated and now his daughters were worse off than before. He went up to the attic rooms where Mrs. Bennet chose to do her writing and laid the facts before her, but she said that editors were even more treacherous than entails and her agent was more of a snake in the grass than Mr. Collins could ever hope to be.

Jane, meanwhile, went for a walk in the lane. Taking her slippers off she sat upon a rock in the sun and indecorously picked her toenails. Mr. Darcy came along at just that moment astride a white stallion and greeted her.

"Good day, Miss Bennet," he said, as he dismounted his steed. He thought she must be in some distress, and he feared she had twisted one of her ankles. Mr. Darcy had a thing for a well turned ankle and Miss Jane Bennet appeared to have a very superior set.

"Is there anything I can do to relieve your distress?" he asked.

She looked up at him without interest. "Oh, it's you," was all she said.

"A glass of wine perhaps," said Mr. Darcy, his eyes not leaving her ankles.

"You carry wine upon your person?" asked Jane scornfully.

"Well, no, actually," said Darcy, blushing somewhat. "But are you not hurt?'

"Nothing more earth-shattering than an ingrown toenail," said Jane, picking at the thing again. "Not that it is any of your business." She was about to tell the man to go away - all his staring at her legs seemed a trifle obsessive, but then she had a brainwave. "Do you have any incredibly rich friends who are Viscounts or Earls that I could be thrown into the path of if you married one of my sisters?"

Darcy looked at her incredulously. "Why would I want to marry one of your sisters?" Then he thought for a moment. "Do any of them have ankles such as yours, or freckles? I have this thing for freckles. I love to discover constellations in them - I would gladly marry a girl who bears all the signs of the zodiac."

Jane eyed him with suspicion. It was just possible he was dicked in the nob, but nevermind, it wasn't her that would end up marrying him - he'd do for one or other of her sisters. She sighed - if mama wasn't going to ensure the silly girls married well it was up to her. "Freckles, hmmm - they've been using Gowlands for years now and none of them are spattered like that insipid Mary King."

"Mary King?" asked Darcy, his interest deepening.

"Oh, never mind her," said Jane. "She has a penchant for rakes, and you are more of a . . . pitchfork, I'd say. Besides now that our Mama has as good as run off with the gypsies, I'm sure none of the girls are applying the lotion and will be covered with the odious things before long."

Darcy raised his eyes from where they had been dwelling on the neat bone structure of her ankles. "Gypsies? Just what sort of family do you plan for me to enter into? I have my pride, you know."

"You don't need to remind me. It's a well known fact, though now it appears that you are prejudiced too."

"I see no sense in standing here bandying words with you. I have shades in Pemberly to keep pollution-free, after all."

"As if," said Jane. "There are things I know about you that you cannot refute."

"You've not been talking to Wickham have you? He's a lying bounder!"

"I'll let you in on a secret. My mother has not run off with Gypsies as local gossip would lead you to believe. She's up in our attics writing an expose of the haute ton that is about to be published. There are some pages on your family that I could steal from her manuscript and destroy if you agree to marry one of my sisters and set me up with a sickeningly rich peer."

"Really," he said sarcastically. "I am all astonishment." He flicked a speck of dust off his lapel and continued. "My family has no skeletons in our closets."

"I don't imagine they do," said Jane. "Only well appointed shelves. But according to my mother's notes which I have read, there is some hidden scandal pertaining to your father and one Mrs. Wickham. There is also reason to believe that the Mrs. Darcy who gave birth to you is not the same Mrs. Darcy who gave birth to your young sister, though there is no record of a death or divorce. And there is a lot of clanking of chains in the attics of Pemberley, not to mention that every month with the full moon the howling of wolves is heard throughout the estate. I imagine your shades are feeling a bit more like slumming now, aren't they?"

"Did I ever tell you that my uncle is an Earl and his eldest son, the Viscount, is so disgustingly wealthy that his chimney pieces are limitless, not to mention his windows."

"A few carriages and oodles of jewels is all I ask," said Jane disdainfully.

"I do have to warn you that he is not nearly half so handsome as me," said Darcy with one last wistful look at her ankles.

"Take your handsome face and use it to impress my sisters, I'm sure I don't care a jot for it."

And Jane was telling the truth. She had settled herself, and one of her sisters and there were now three more to go - that was a much more pressing problem than a husband who looked like the backside of a horse. She would deal with that when the time came - now if only her parents had been less affectionate in their younger years and she wouldn't have so many sisters to square away. There was that Mr. Bingley. There was no way she could stomach his nauseating cheerfulness and foolish grinning, but someone like Mary might be willing to put up with him. In her gowns Mary looked quite presentable, and with a veil to hide her protruding teeth and squint, and taking into account Mr. Bingley's evident shortsightedness, if his choice of dance partners was any indication, the match just might be a go. The only thing standing in their way was Miss Bingley - Jane suspected her of being a rabid social climber who would oppose any unequal match her vacuous brother might contemplate. How to deal with her . . .

Meanwhile, Lydia had gone outdoors to glory in all of God's wondrous creations, when she encountered a gentleman on horseback. She drew her wrap more closely about her as he approached. He was soon close enough for her to recognize him as Mr. Darcy. He too recognized her as one of the Bennet girls. He figured if he had to marry one, he had better start narrowing down his choice. He stopped and dismounted in the hopes of catching a glimpse of her ankles.

They greeted one another politely, but when Darcy mentioned he had met Jane in the lane, Lydia became alarmed. "Do not be drawn in by her evil ways, Mr. Darcy!" she cried, "you must resist! You must not do as she bids!"

Darcy was too preoccupied with trying to view her ankles to really attend to what she was saying and simply gave a slight nod.

Suddenly, Lydia changed the subject, "Are you trying to look at my ankles, sir?" she asked incredulously.

"Guilty as charged," he grinned with a waggle of his brows.

Lydia was disgusted. She wagged her finger at his face as she said, "You should be ashamed of yourself, mister! What is this world coming to?!" Then she shook her head vigorously as she let out a rather loud sigh and said, "Men!" with a hopelessness in her tone.

Meanwhile, Darcy had become quite enchanted by her wagging finger and longed for her to hold it up to his face again. As he stared at her finger he noticed a freckle on the inside of her wrist, partially hidden by her long sleeves. He wondered what delightful patterns and constellations might be hidden beneath the constricting fabric of her gown. Lydia just stomped and walked away from him, returning to Longbourn, where things had not improved.

Mrs. Bennet was writing up a storm when she suddenly screamed like a banshee and threw a handful of papers into the air. "Why do I keep writing long detailed descriptions of Athos' shapely legs and Marlowe's overpowering cravings? I'm supposed to be detailing the benefits of marrying into the clergy!" She pulled at her hair, mended her pen, and began again.

Downstairs, Mr. Bennet eyed the ceiling of the drawing room with trepidation. He'd been kept from his library for so long that he'd forgotten what it even looked like. He sighed and placed a hanky soaked in lavender water on his forehead. "Lizzy, Mary, Kitty. Lydia - can one of you girls see to your mother? I don't think I'm up to it. Oh my poor nerves!"

Lydia immediately fell to her knees and began praying for her mother's health and her father's nerves. Mary offered to assist her father. She, like all her sisters, had been surprised to see him more often than not these past few weeks. It was quite a novelty, them not having really known their father very well all their lives, except perhaps Lizzy, and Mary did not want to think about how well Lizzy might know the man.

She was on her way through the front hall when Mr. Bingley called. Mary pulled her veil further over her face (Jane had such good ideas!) and went to welcome him. It turned out he was to give a ball at Netherfield. He was so struck by Mary's veiled beauty, however, that although he had promised Lydia she could name the date, he was suddenly thinking of dates and other things with Mary's name attached.

Mrs. Mary Bingley! How grand that sounded to him!

He was so smitten, he immediately proposed a trip to Gretna Green. That would take care of Caroline's social climbing, his suddenly pressing needs, and the ball all in one fell swoop.

He pulled Mary off into that prettyish kind of wilderness on one side of the lawn and expressed his undying love.

"Shall we run off to Gretna, my love?" he asked after kissing her senseless through her veil. "Or shall we hole up in squalor in London and live in sin until we are caught and made to marry?"

Mary shrugged. It was all the same to her, although she was fairly sure the living in sin part would appeal most to Lizzy. She thought they might have a better chance at Gretna, and he agreed.

"Tonight I shall put a ladder up against your window and we shall away with the winds to Scotland."

Mary thought Mr. Bingley could be very strange at times, but he was cute and he had money and the fleshly side of marriage was beginning to appeal to her. Mrs. Bingley Dingley! How grand that sounded! Jane had explained all of that recently in lieu of Mama, and she had made it sound as if it were the most boring thing in the world. Mary wasn't so sure about that now.

That night, when everyone was asleep, Mary heard noises and she knew it was her Bingles coming to fetch her. She heard pebbles striking a window, but when she looked, Mr. Bingley was throwing rocks at Lydia's window.

"Pssst!" she called, gaining his attention. He waved and disappeared. But Lydia had been roused from her slumber by the sound of the rocks against her window. She looked out the window to see Mr. Bingley carrying ladder from her window to Kitty's and Mary hanging at her window trying to get his attention. She immediately went to Mary's room and began lecturing her on Fordyce about the proper behavior of a young lady.

But Mary wasn't listening. She heard another sound and realized Mr. Bingley was placing a ladder up to a window - Kitty's window!

"Pssst!" she called. He was standing on the ladder so he hopped it over to her window, making an incredible amount of noise and waking the entire family. Except Mama, of course, who was still awake, burning the midnight oil in the attic and muttering about men in wheelchairs, whatever those were.

Kitty was roused from the pages of her book by a scraping on the outside wall. She was an incredibly sensible girl so she didn't jump to any conclusions about abductions or elopements, so you could imagine her surprise when she looked out her window and saw Mr. Bingley in the process of helping her sister Mary climb out her bedroom window. She coughed very loudly. The unexpected noise caused Bingley to start and the ladder to wobble and then topple to the ground. Mary was left hanging half in - half out of her window. It was really most amusing. After she had a good giggle, Kitty put on a very decorous housecoat and went over to Mary's room where she found Lydia lecturing her dangling sister on propriety. She enlisted her youngest sister to help Mary back into the house. After scolding Mary for her wanton ways Kitty decided that someone had to go down to attend to Mr. Bingley - so she took that task upon herself as well and left the scolding to Lydia to whom constant practice had given great proficiency. It seemed that since her mother had taken to spending all her time writing it had fallen upon Kitty to be the responsible one af the daughters.

Mr. Bingley was lying on the ground, his face white against the brilliant blue of his coat. A trickle of blood ran from a cut on his temple and his breath was coming in short, wheezing gasps. Kitty pulled a hadkercheif from her copious pocket and held it to the wound to staunch the bleeding. She then lifted Mr. Bingley's eyelids only to find that his eyes were rolled back into his head. Unconcious. Well, there was nothing for it but to take him into the house and put him up in the best bedchamber. She capably threw him over her shoulder and carried him up the two flights of stairs. Hill, who had been disturbed by the clatter of the fall, ran before her and turned down the blankets.

"We must take off his boots," said Kitty, "But other than that he will have to stay clothed. Could you please send for the apothecary straight away?"

Hill knew that Mr. Bingley was in good hands. No one was as level-headed as Kitty in a crisis. She ran off to do as she was bid.

Kitty drew the blankets up to Mr. Bingley's neck and sat on the bed, regarding her patient dispassionately. Despite his pallor he was unexpectedly handsome - but that could have been due to the fact that he was no longer smiling like an idiot. Kitty coughed again - this time to see if it would rouse Bingley from his stupor - but he slept on, oblivious to her hacking. There was a banging on the wall beside her and Lydia yelled for her to pipe down. Now that was funny! Coughing always had it's little perks.

She left Bingley's side for a moment to get some light reading - The Complete and Unabridged History of The Known World and Essays on the Reconstruction of Parliament - two of her very favourite books. But somehow she could not get her head around parliamentary reform or the eating habits of obscure nomadic tribes in the Sahara. She kept returning to gaze upon Bingley's countenance. She was not quite sure what to think of him - he had always appeared amiable and behaved with the utmost propriety, so what was he doing at Mary's window with a ladder? A man of his stamp could not have rakish tendencies - there must have been some terrible mistake. Maybe he was under the misapprehension that Mary was being held captive against her will and that he was coming to her rescue. She would put nothing past Mary and her immoral trickery.

He looked to her to be a fine, upstanding gentleman. True - he was not upstanding at this moment, rather he was lying down incapable of movement, but she was entirley to blame for that. Who was it who said she times her coughs ill?

All too soon the apothecary came and Kitty left the room for the examination. When she returned the man announced that Bingley was unconcious and must not be moved. What a supreme waste of time and money - she had already ascertained that. Kitty saw him to the door and coughed a little louder than was discreet as he mounted his horse. The animal bolted while the man had only one foot in the stirrups and he was flailing about on the horse's back all the way down the drive until he managed to right himself. Quite tolerably amusing!

Kitty diligently and unstintingly nursed Mr. Bingley the whole night through. By the morning his fever was gone. His wound, which she had stitched with her best embroidery thread, was healing, and his eyelids were finally fluttering open. The first thing Bingles saw when he opened his eyes was Kitty's face peering down at him, haloed from the back by the morning sun that was streaming through the window.

"An Angel." he sighed. He grasped her hand and lapsed into a restful sleep. She sat there and held on to his hand for three hours until he woke again, so loth she was to disturb his healthgiving slumber.

When his eyes drifted open again Kitty noted how incredibly blue they were.

"Are you real," he said, "or sent from heaven?"

"Alas I am but a mere mortal," admitted Kitty.

"The most beautiful mortal I have ever laid eyes upon," whispered Bingley.

Kitty knew there were many more beautiful than she, but chose not to quibble. "You have suffered a fall," she said to Mr. Bingley. "How does your head feel?"

"Lighter than air," he said. "It is as if this pillow were a cloud and you . . . the angel of my heart."

If this was the result of brain damage, Kitty decided she could live with it. Never had she, the overlooked Bennet, been gazed upon with such adoration. She brushed his golden curls back from his face, pretending that she was feeling his brow for fever. "Are you in any way unwell?" she asked.

"I have never felt better," said he.

"Is there anything you require?"

"Only to speak to your father, my dear delight."

Kitty rushed from the room to get her father before her handsome prince's dilerium passed.

Mr. Bennet, who'd had no idea that an injured Mr. Bingley was under his roof, gratefully gave his permission for Bingley to address his daughter and exited from the room.

Bingles lost no time in expressing his everlasting love and devotion. "Promise me that you will be my wife dearest, loveliest . . ."

"Kitty," she said, helpfully.

"Kitty," he sighed.

"I will," she said. "With all my heart."

And she leant over him so they could seal the vow with a kiss. It was as sweet as rose petals dipped in dew and as fresh as a mountain stream. All that Kitty could ever have wished for. "Rest my love," she said as she stroked his head. He soon fell into a peaceful sleep and she opened one of her books and read about the heirarchy of the House of Lords. Never had those words touched her soul as they did this day. She sighed in fulfillment.

Jane passed by the open door - it had been open all along, of course. Kitty would never commit the impropriety of being in a closed room alone with a gentleman. what were all of you thinking? - and saw that Kitty had stolen the march on Mary. There was nothing for it but to go upstars and console Mary - after all she'd discovered that her Viscount had a brother and Mary did so like a red coat upon a gentleman.

Lydia also happened by the opened door to Bingley's chamber and was about to lecture Jane on the impropriety of standing in the doorway staring at a single gentleman in bed, when she looked inside the room to see that same gentleman locked in a most indecorous embrace with her sister, Kitty, and partaking in a most sinful activity. She shreiked, then fainted. When she finally awoke, she was lying on the floor staring up at several faces. She found Jane's and said, "I want to join a convent."

Mr. Darcy, who had only just arrived to see Lydia swoon, and had come for the purpose of proposing, now suffered sorrow, loss, and grief that was inexplicably painful. He looked around at all the Bennet girls. Jane was to marry his cousin, the Viscount, Mary would make a very good choice for his other cousin, the soldier, Kitty was to marry Bingley, and now Lydia was to join the convent. He was running out of Bennet girls and fast! Finally, he settled his gaze upon Miss Elizabeth, and sighed as he resigned himself to his fate. Then suddenly, his gaze fell upon a befreckled beauty that seemingly appeared from nowhere. But would she do? Was she a Bennet? Did she have attractive ankles?

The young woman's face was streaked with tears and Darcy longed to kiss them away. He could already make out at least one glorious constellation on her exquisite face. Who was this delightful creature?
 
"Mary King," said Mary Bennet, still behind her veil, "What do you do here?"

"Do you remember, Mary, when we were very young, and we realized we had been born on the same night?"

Mary Bennet nodded.

Mary King continued, "And the same midwife delivered us into this world?"

"Yes I remember," said Mary Bennet. "Mistress Winifred."

"She is dead," said Mary King.

Everyone was very sad to hear about the passing of the old woman.

"This note was found next to her deathbed," said Mary King, producing a note from her sleeve and handing it to Mr. Bennet.

He read it and was shocked! "Another daughter?"

Jane rolled her eyes, grabbed the letter and read it quickly, "Another sister? I don't believe it!"

Just then, in his desperation to prove Mary King was a Bennet, Darcy pulled off Mary Bennet's veil. Everyone gasped as they noticed the two Marys were identical.

Mr. Bennet immediately began computing the probability of such an event even as he ran upstairs to tell his wife she must change the title of her book!

Meanwhile, Darcy turned to Jane and said, "That proves it. She is a Bennet girl and I can marry her to uphold my end of our bargain."

Jane could not help but reflect that while she was by no means deficient, Darcy was clever!

"Wait a minute," said Mary King, "What makes you think I wish to marry you? I have ten-thousand pounds. I shall have my choice."

"I have ten-thousand pounds . . . a year," replied Darcy as he led her off to the prettyish kind of little wilderness on one side of the lawn in an effort to compromise her so she would be forced to marry him.

Just then a carriage arrived carrying the Viscount and his brother. They had gone to Netherfield in search of Darcy and Bingley and had been directed to come to Longbourn. Jane and Mary made quick business of securing their affections with every ploy in their power.

Now the futures of all the Bennet girls were secure, except for Lizzy's. She looked around at all the gentlemen entertaining her sisters. She hoped to steal one of them but couldn't decide which one as she was attracted to them all. Just then, Mr. Collins returned from Lucas Lodge -- a broken man. Miss Lucas had dumped him and run off with Mr. Hurst! He looked longingly at Lizzy as they were surrounded by couples exuding romantic bliss. She smiled, tentatively brushed her hand against his and whispered "Of all this I shall be mistress."

At that moment, Mrs. Bennet came flying down the stairs towards her daughters. "I've sold it, I've sold the book! We shall have enough money to dower you all! Oh for heaven's sake Jane, go put on your blue gown. Lizzy, do keep your father occupied with intelligent conversation so he doesn't get in my way. Mary, read something. Kitty, learn to better time your coughs. Lydia, put those books away and try to get a gentleman's attention for once. Oh my poor nerves! Then she spied Mary King and smiled."

"Mama?" said Mary King timidly.

"Mama," repeated all the other girls as they embraced her and exclaimed how good it was to have her back.

Mr. Bennet walked into the room as two stable boys followed behind him carrying a large cake. He winked at his girls and altogether theysaid, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMA!"


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