It had been raining since before dawn--a thin icy rain that<br >slicked London with a gray sheen. It dripped dolefully from<br >the trees onto the greasy pavements beneath and sent the<br >chill striking through to the very bones of the crowds that<br >were already forming along the route between St. James s<br >and Buckingham Palace and up Constitution Hill;<br > It wanted half an hour yet to seven o clock， but there they<br >were， fighting for good vantage points， arguing and screech-<br >ing and generally behaving as London crowds always did<br >whe~ given any excuse at all to forget the narrow meanness<br >andliflrabness of their lives. And was not the Little Queen s<br >wed d~ag day as good an excuse as they had had since the end<br >of the "French Wars? They were going to enjoy themselves，<br >come hell come devil， and in they came pouring， from.Hox-<br >ton and Stepney， from the villages of Fulham and Chelsea，<br >streaming over the elegant new Waterloo Bridge from South-<br >wark and Lambeth and CamberwellmLondoners on holiday.<br > Abby， standing at the window of her bedchamber and<br >staring out at the mournful patch of graying grass thai was<br >all that was left of the once rural Paddington Green to which<br >she had come as a bride， was well aware of the fact that the<br >day was to be a holiday， and was thoroughly angered by it.<br > She was as careful and thoughtful an employer as any， she<br >told herself， and saw to it that her people had good conditions<br >and were paid promptly. So their calm assumption that the<br >Queen s wedding gave them leave to depart from the manu-<br ><br >