Maggie carried in the water, with a shy pride in the clearness of the glass. Her mother was sitting on the edge of her chair, speaking in unusually fine language, and with a higher pitched voice than common. Edward, in all his Sunday glory, was standing by Mr. Buxton, looking happy and conscious. But when Maggie came in, Mr. Buxton made room for her between Edward and himself, and, while she went on talking, lifted her on to his knee. She sat there as on a pinnacle of honor; but as she durst not nestle up to him, a chair would have been the more comfortable seat.
“As founder’s line, I have a right of presentation; and for my dear old friend’s sake” (here Mrs. Browne wiped her eyes), “I am truly glad of it; my young friend will have a little form of examination to go through; and then we shall see him carrying every prize before him, I have no doubt. Thank you, just a little of your sparkling cowslip wine. Ah! this gingerbread is like the gingerbread I had when I was a boy. My little lady here must learn the receipt, and make me some. Will she?”
“Speak to Mr. Buxton, child, who is kind to your brother. You will make him some gingerbread, I am sure.”
“If I may,” said Maggie, hanging down her head.
“Or, I’ll tell you what. Suppose you come to my house, and teach us how to make it there; and then, you know, we could always be making gingerbread when we were not eating it. That would be best, I think. Must I ask mamma to bring you down to Combehurst, and let us all get acquainted together? I have a great boy and a little girl at home, who will like to see you, I’m sure. And we have got a pony for you to ride on, and a peacock and guinea fowls, and I don’t know what all. Come, madam, let me persuade you. School begins in three weeks. Let us fix a day before then.”
“Do mamma,” said Edward.
“I am not in spirits for visiting,” Mrs. Browne answered. But the quick children detected a hesitation in her manner of saying the oft spoken words, and had hopes, if only Mr. Buxton would persevere in his invitation.
“Your not visiting is the very reason why you are not in spirits. A little change, and a few neighborly faces, would do you good, I’ll be bound. Besides, for the children’s sake you should not live too secluded a life. Young people should see a little of the world.”
Mrs. Browne was much obliged to Mr. Buxton for giving her so decent an excuse for following her inclination, which, it must be owned, tended to the acceptance of the invitation. So, “for the children’s sake,” she consented. But she sighed, as if making a sacrifice.
“That’s right,” said Mr. Buxton. “Now for the day.”