“Yes; he wishes to see you about some parish business, I think,” said Mrs. Robarts, looking up for a moment from the anxious discussion in which she was already engaged with Mrs. Crawley on nursery matters. “Pray tell him,” said Mr. Crawley, “that I shall be happy to see him; though, perhaps, now that new duties have been thrown upon him, it will be better that I should visit him at Framley.” “His new duties do not disturb him much as yet,” said Lucy. “And his riding over here will be no trouble to him.” “Yes; there he has the advantage over me. I unfortunately have no horse.” And then Lucy began petting the little boy, and by degrees slipped a small bag of gingerbread-nuts out of her muff into his hands. She had not the patience necessary for waiting, as had her sister-in-law. The boy took the bag, peeped into it, and then looked up into her face. “What is that, Bob?” said Mr. Crawley. “Gingerbread,” faltered Bobby, feeling that a sin had been committed, though, probably, feeling also that he himself could hardly as yet be accounted as deeply guilty. “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 bookshelf. “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 farmyard, 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.