“Ah! I was sure he would agree with me,” said her ladyship, “when he learned what sort of person she is. I know I had only to explain;”—and then she plumed her feathers, and was very gracious; for, to tell the truth, Lady Lufton did not like to be opposed in things which concerned the parish nearly. “And, Fanny,” said Lady Lufton, in her kindest manner, “you are not going anywhere on Saturday, are you?” “No, I think not.” “Then you must come to us. Justinia is to be here, you know”—Lady Meredith was named Justinia—“and you and Mr. Robarts had better stay with us till Monday. He can have the little book-room all to himself on Sunday. The Merediths go on Monday; and Justinia won’t be happy if you are not with her.” It would be unjust to say that Lady Lufton had determined not to invite the Robartses if she were not allowed to have her own way about Sarah Thompson. But such would have been the result. As it was, however, she was all kindness; and when Mrs. Robarts made some little excuse, saying that she was afraid she must return home in the evening, because of the children, Lady Lufton declared that there was room enough at Framley Court for baby and nurse, and so settled the matter in her own way, with a couple of nods and three taps of her umbrella. This was on a Tuesday morning, and on the same evening, before dinner, the vicar again seated himself in the same chair before the drawing-room fire, as soon as he had seen his horse led into the stable. “Mark,” said his wife, “the Merediths are to be at Framley on Saturday and Sunday; and I have promised that we will go up and stay over till Monday.” “You don’t mean it! Goodness gracious, how provoking!” “Why? I thought you wouldn’t mind it. And Justinia would think it unkind if I were not there.” “You can go, my dear, and of course will go. But as for me, it is impossible.” “But why, love?” “Why? Just now, at the school-house, I answered a letter that was brought to me from Chaldicotes. Sowerby insists on my going over there for a week or so; and I have said that I would.” “Go to Chaldicotes for a week, Mark?” “I believe I have even consented to ten days.” “And be away two Sundays?” “No, Fanny, only one. Don’t be so censorious.” “Don’t call me censorious, Mark; you know I am not so. But I am so sorry. It is just what Lady Lufton won’t like. Besides, you were away in Scotland two Sundays last month.” “In September, Fanny. And that is being censorious.” “Oh, but, Mark, dear Mark; don’t say so. You know I don’t mean it. But Lady Lufton does not like those Chaldicotes people. You know Lord Lufton was with you the last time you were there; and how annoyed she was!” “Lord Lufton won’t be with me now, for he is still in Scotland. And the reason why I am going is this: Harold Smith and his wife will be there, and I am very anxious to know more of them. I have no doubt that Harold Smith will be in the government some day, and I cannot afford to neglect such a man’s acquaintance.”