ead 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.

The curates, summoned to this bounteous repast, entered joyous; but at
once, on seeing the ladies, of whose presence they had not been
forewarned, they came to a stand in the doorway. Malone headed the
party; he stopped short and fell back, almost capsizing Donne, who was
behind him. Donne, staggering three paces in retreat, sent little
Sweeting into the arms of old Helstone, who brought up the rear. There
was some expostulation, some tittering. Malone was desired to mind what
he was about, and urged to push forward, which at last he did, though
colouring to the top of his peaked forehead a bluish purple. Helstone,
advancing, set the shy curates aside, welcomed all his fair guests,
shook hands and passed a jest with each, and seated himself snugly
between the lovely Harriet and the dashing Hannah. Miss Mary he
requested to move to the seat opposite to him, that he might see her if
he couldn't be near her. Perfectly easy and gallant, in his way, were
his manners always to young ladies, and most popular was he amongst
them; yet at heart he neither respected nor liked the sex, and such of
them as circumstances had brought into intimate relation with him had
ever feared rather than loved him.

The curates were left to shift for themselves. Sweeting, who was the
least embarrassed of the three, took refuge beside Mrs. Sykes, who, he
knew, was almost as fond of him as if he had been her son. Donne, after
making his general bow with a grace all his own, and saying in a high,
pragmatical voice, "How d'ye do, Miss Helstone?" dropped into a seat at
Caroline's elbow, to her unmitigated annoyance, for she had a peculiar
antipathy to Donne, on account of his stultified and immovable
self-conceit and his incurable narrowness