‘Fanny—­my wife—­shall find work for you,’ he said.  ’You must excuse her calling on you, she is never off the sofa, but—­’ And what a bright look he gave! as much as to say that his wife on the sofa was better than any one else off.  ’I was hoping to call some of these afternoons,’ he continued, ’but I have had little time, and Fanny thought your door was besieged enough already.’

‘Thank you,’ said Albinia; ’I own I thought it was your kindness in leaving me a little breathing time.  And would Mrs. Dusautoy be able to see me if I were to call?’

‘She would be delighted.  Suppose you were to come in at once.’

‘I wish I could, but I must go on to Mrs. Meadows’.  If I were to come to-morrow?’

‘Any time—­any time,’ he said.  ’She is always at home, and she has been much better since we came here.  We were too much in the town at Lauriston.’

Mr. Dusautoy, having a year ago come out of the diocese where had been Albinia’s home, they had many common friends, and plunged into ‘ecclesiastical intelligence,’ with a mutual understanding of the topics most often under discussion, that made Albinia quite in her element.  ’A great Newfoundland dog of a man in size, and countenance, and kindness,’ thought she.  ’If his wife be worthy of him, I shall reck little of all the rest.’

Her tread the gayer for this resumption of old habits, she proceeded to Mrs. Meadows’, where the sensation created by her poor little basket justified Lucy’s remonstrance.  There were regrets, and assurances that the girl could have come in a moment, and that she need not have troubled herself, and her laughing declarations that it was no trouble were disregarded, except that the old lady said, in gentle excuse to her daughter, that Mrs. Kendal had always lived in the country, where people could do as they pleased.

‘I mean to do as I please here,’ said Albinia, laughing; but the speech was received with silent discomfiture that made her heartily regret it.  She disdained to explain it away; she was beginning to hold Mrs. and Miss Meadows too cheap to think it worth while.

‘Well,’ said Mrs. Meadows, as if yielding up the subject, ’things may be different from what they were in my time.’

‘Oh! mamma—­Mrs. Kendal—­I am sure—­’ Albinia let Maria flounder, but she only found her way out of the speech with ’Well! and is not it the most extraordinary!—­Mr. Dusautoy—­so rude—­’

’I should not wonder if you found me almost as extraordinary as Mr. Dusautoy,’ said Albinia.

Why would Miss Meadows always nettle her into saying exactly the wrong thing, so as to alarm and distress the old lady?  That want of comprehension of playfulness was a strangely hard trial.  She turned to Mrs. Meadows and tried to reassure her by saying, ’You know I have been always in the clerical line myself, so I naturally take the part of the parson.’

‘Yes, my dear,’ said Mrs. Meadows.  ’I dare say Mr, Dusautoy is a very good man, but I wish he would allow his poor delicate wife more butcher’s meat, and I don’t think it looks well to see the vicarage without a man-servant.’