"Very likely. I saw him once or twice in my New York days."
"And he gave you lunch."
"Mrs. Wishart and me. Yes. And a good lunch it was. That's why I spoke of pickles, Charity. Do the very best you can."
"I cannot do my best, unless I can cook the chickens," said Charity, who all this while stood leaning upon her broom. "I might do it for once."
"Where is your leave to do wrong once?"
"But this is a particular occasion—you may call it a necessity; and necessity makes an exception."
"What is the necessity, Charity?" said Mrs. Armadale, who until now had not spoken.
"Why, grandma, you want to treat a stranger well?"
"With whatever I have got to give him. But Sunday time isn't mine to give."
"But necessary things, grandma?—we may do necessary things?"