She was 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