“For my companion tells me,” said she, “that I absolutely promised Miss Bates last night, that I would come this morning.  I was not aware of it myself.  I did not know that I had fixed a day, but as he says I did, I am going now.”

“And while Mrs. Weston pays her visit, I may be allowed, I hope,” said Frank Churchill, “to join your party and wait for her at Hartfield—­ if you are going home.”

Mrs. Weston was disappointed.

“I thought you meant to go with me.  They would be very much pleased.”

“Me!  I should be quite in the way.  But, perhaps—­I may be equally in the way here.  Miss Woodhouse looks as if she did not want me.  My aunt always sends me off when she is shopping.  She says I fidget her to death; and Miss Woodhouse looks as if she could almost say the same.  What am I to do?”

“I am here on no business of my own,” said Emma; “I am only waiting for my friend.  She will probably have soon done, and then we shall go home.  But you had better go with Mrs. Weston and hear the instrument.”

“Well—­if you advise it.—­But (with a smile) if Colonel Campbell should have employed a careless friend, and if it should prove to have an indifferent tone—­what shall I say?  I shall be no support to Mrs. Weston.  She might do very well by herself.  A disagreeable truth would be palatable through her lips, but I am the wretchedest being in the world at a civil falsehood.”

“I do not believe any such thing,” replied Emma.—­“I am persuaded that you can be as insincere as your neighbours, when it is necessary; but there is no reason to suppose the instrument is indifferent.  Quite otherwise indeed, if I understood Miss Fairfax’s opinion last night.”

“Do come with me,” said Mrs. Weston, “if it be not very disagreeable to you.  It need not detain us long.  We will go to Hartfield afterwards.  We will follow them to Hartfield.  I really wish you to call with me.  It will be felt so great an attention! and I always thought you meant it.”

He could say no more; and with the hope of Hartfield to reward him, returned with Mrs. Weston to Mrs. Bates’s door.  Emma watched them in, and then joined Harriet at the interesting counter,—­trying, with all the force of her own mind, to convince her that if she wanted plain muslin it was of no use to look at figured; and that a blue ribbon, be it ever so beautiful, would still never match her yellow pattern.  At last it was all settled, even to the destination of the parcel.

“Should I send it to Mrs. Goddard’s, ma’am?” asked Mrs. Ford.—­ “Yes—­no—­yes, to Mrs. Goddard’s.  Only my pattern gown is at Hartfield.  No, you shall send it to Hartfield, if you please.  But then, Mrs. Goddard will want to see it.—­And I could take the pattern gown home any day.  But I shall want the ribbon directly—­ so it had better go to Hartfield—­at least the ribbon.  You could make it into two parcels, Mrs. Ford, could not you?”