Emma | Page 9

so busy in admiring those soft blue eyes, in talking and
listening, and forming all these schemes in the in-betweens, that the
evening flew away at a very unusual rate; and the supper-table, which
always closed such parties, and for which she had been used to sit and
watch the due time, was all set out and ready, and moved forwards to
the fire, before she was aware. With an alacrity beyond the common
impulse of a spirit which yet was never indifferent to the credit of
doing every thing well and attentively, with the real good-will of a
mind delighted with its own ideas, did she then do all the honours of
the meal, and help and recommend the minced chicken and scalloped
oysters, with an urgency which she knew would be acceptable to the
early hours and civil scruples of their guests.
Upon such occasions poor Mr. Woodhouses feelings were in sad
warfare. He loved to have the cloth laid, because it had been the fashion
of his youth, but his conviction of suppers being very unwholesome
made him rather sorry to see any thing put on it; and while his
hospitality would have welcomed his visitors to every thing, his care
for their health made him grieve that they would eat.
Such another small basin of thin gruel as his own was all that he could,
with thorough self-approbation, recommend; though he might constrain
himself, while the ladies were comfortably clearing the nicer things, to
say:
"Mrs. Bates, let me propose your venturing on one of these eggs. An
egg boiled very soft is not unwholesome. Serle understands boiling an
egg better than any body. I would not recommend an egg boiled by any
body else; but you need not be afraid, they are very small, you see--one
of our small eggs will not hurt you. Miss Bates, let Emma help you to a
little bit of tart--a very little bit. Ours are all apple-tarts. You need not
be afraid of unwholesome preserves here. I do not advise the custard.
Mrs. Goddard, what say you to half a glass of wine? A small half-glass,
put into a tumbler of water? I do not think it could disagree with you."
Emma allowed her father to talk--but supplied her visitors in a much

more satisfactory style, and on the present evening had particular
pleasure in sending them away happy. The happiness of Miss Smith
was quite equal to her intentions. Miss Woodhouse was so great a
personage in Highbury, that the prospect of the introduction had given
as much panic as pleasure; but the humble, grateful little girl went off
with highly gratified feelings, delighted with the affability with which
Miss Woodhouse had treated her all the evening, and actually shaken
hands with her at last!
CHAPTER IV
Harriet Smith's intimacy at Hartfield was soon a settled thing. Quick
and decided in her ways, Emma lost no time in inviting, encouraging,
and telling her to come very often; and as their acquaintance increased,
so did their satisfaction in each other. As a walking companion, Emma
had very early foreseen how useful she might find her. In that respect
Mrs. Weston's loss had been important. Her father never went beyond
the shrubbery, where two divisions of the ground sufficed him for his
long walk, or his short, as the year varied; and since Mrs. Weston's
marriage her exercise had been too much confined. She had ventured
once alone to Randalls, but it was not pleasant; and a Harriet Smith,
therefore, one whom she could summon at any time to a walk, would
be a valuable addition to her privileges. But in every respect, as she saw
more of her, she approved her, and was confirmed in all her kind
designs.
Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful
disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be
guided by any one she looked up to. Her early attachment to herself
was very amiable; and her inclination for good company, and power of
appreciating what was elegant and clever, shewed that there was no
want of taste, though strength of understanding must not be expected.
Altogether she was quite convinced of Harriet Smith's being exactly the
young friend she wanted--exactly the something which her home
required. Such a friend as Mrs. Weston was out of the question. Two
such could never be granted. Two such she did not want. It was quite a
different sort of thing, a sentiment distinct and independent. Mrs.

Weston was the object of a regard which had its basis in gratitude and
esteem. Harriet would be loved as one to whom she could be useful.
For Mrs. Weston there was nothing to be done; for Harriet every thing.
Her first attempts at