“Are there any teacakes?” asked the young mistress.
“Only three and a loaf. I wish these fine folk would stay at home till they’re asked; and I want to finish trimming my hat” (bonnet she meant).
“Then,” suggested Caroline, to whom the importance of the emergency gave a certain energy, “Fanny must run down to Briarfield and buy some muffins and crumpets and some biscuits. And don’t be cross, Eliza; we can’t help it now.”
“And which tea things are we to have?”
“Oh, the best, I suppose. I’ll get out the silver service.” And she ran upstairs to the plate closet, and presently brought down teapot, cream ewer, and sugar basin.
“And mun we have th’ urn?”
“Yes; and now get it ready as quickly as you can, for the sooner we have tea over the sooner they will go – at least, I hope so. Heigh-ho! I wish they were gone,” she sighed, as she returned to the drawing room. “Still,” she thought, as she paused at the door ere opening it, “if Robert would but come even now how bright all would be! How comparatively easy the task of amusing these people if he were present! There would be an interest in hearing him talk (though he never says much in company) and in talking in his presence. There can be no interest in hearing any of them, or in speaking to them. How they will gabble when the curates come in, and how weary I shall grow with listening to them! But I suppose I am a selfish fool. These are very respectable gentlefolks. I ought, no doubt, to be proud of their countenance. I don’t say they are not as good as I am – far from it – but they are different from me.”
She went in.
Yorkshire people in those days took their tea round the table, sitting well into it, with their knees duly introduced under the mahogany. It was essential to have a multitude of plates of bread and butter, varied in sorts and plentiful in quantity. It was thought proper, too, that on the centre plate should stand a glass dish of marmalade. Among the viands was expected to be found a small assortment of cheesecakes and tarts. If there was also a plate of thin slices of pink ham garnished with green parsley, so much the better.
Eliza, the rector’s cook, fortunately knew her business as provider. She had been put out of humour a little at first, when the invaders came so unexpectedly in such strength; but it appeared that she regained her cheerfulness with action, for in due time the tea was spread forth in handsome style, and neither ham, tarts, nor marmalade were wanting among its accompaniments.