“From India, by way of London, Sir,” said Jane, “now you can guess.”
“Yes, yes, my dear, I know well enough. I had some idea of finding an exhibition when I came to-night, but not such a one as this, I own. Alfred, my boy, how comes your cake to be on this chair, instead of on the tea-table?”
“We are not going to cut it to-night, Sir.”
“I hardly know when we shall,” said Jane. “It is too large to eat it all ourselves.”
“It does look very good, to be sure,” said Mr Barker. “My mouth waters when I look at it.”
Isabella ran for a knife to cut it directly, but Mr Barker stopped her. “Not now, my dear; but I hoped you would have asked us to tea, to taste your cake.”
“And will you really come, Sir?” asked Jane. “Mrs Barker, will you come to-morrow, and drink tea with us? And the children too. We have no amusement to offer but the cake: but we shall be quite delighted if you will come.”
“With all my heart, Jane. We and two of the children will come, and we will take a long walk afterwards if you please. We shall have more time to look at your presents than we have now; we cannot stay longer to-night.”
Jane put Mrs Rathbone’s letter into Mr Barker’s hand, and he went aside to read it. He returned it to her in silence. She obtained Mr Rathbone’s address, that she might, this very evening, write her thanks for his munificent kindness.
When their friends were gone, the young people found it was too late to take their usual walk; besides, their lessons were not finished, and they resolutely sat down to their business: Alfred, with the fear of the bottom of the class before his eyes; Harriet, with the mixed motive of this fear, and the wish to do right; Isabella, influenced by the wish alone. Alfred asked Jane to hear him his lesson, and the two words, “quite perfect,” at length repaid his labours.