"Miss Robarts," said the father, "we are very much obliged to you; but our children are hardly used to such things."
"I am a lady with a weak mind, Mr. Crawley, and always carry things of this sort about with me when I go to visit children; so you must forgive me, and allow your little boy to accept them."
"Oh, certainly. Bob, my child, give the bag to your mamma, and she will let you and Grace have them one at a time." And then the bag, in a solemn manner, was carried over to their mother, who, taking it from her son's hands, laid it high on a book-shelf.
"And not one now?" said Lucy Robarts, very piteously. "Don't be so hard, Mr. Crawley—not upon them, but upon me. May I not learn whether they are good of their kind?"
"I am sure they are very good; but I think their mamma will prefer their being put by for the present."
This was very discouraging to Lucy. If one small bag of gingerbread-nuts created so great a difficulty, how was she to dispose of the pot of guava jelly and box of bonbons which were still in her muff, or how distribute the packet of oranges with which the pony carriage was laden? And there was jelly for the sick child, and chicken broth, which was, indeed, another jelly; and, to tell the truth openly, there was also a joint of fresh pork, and a basket of eggs from the Framley Parsonage farm-yard, which Mrs. Robarts was to introduce, should she find herself capable of doing so, but which would certainly be cast out with utter scorn by Mr. Crawley if tendered in his immediate presence. There had also been a suggestion as to adding two or three bottles of port; but the courage of the ladies had failed them on that head, and the wine was not now added to their difficulties.
Lucy found it very difficult to keep up a conversation with Mr. Crawley—the more so, as Mrs. Robarts and Mrs. Crawley presently withdrew into a bedroom, taking the two younger children with them. "How unlucky," thought Lucy, "that she has not got my muff with her!" But the muff lay in her lap, ponderous with its rich inclosures.
"I suppose you will live in Barchester for a portion of the year now," said Mr. Crawley.
"I really do not know as yet; Mark talks of taking lodgings for his first month's residence."
