"How unlucky," thought Lucy, "that she has not got my muff with her!"
But the muff lay in her lap, ponderous with its rich enclosures.
"I suppose you will live in Barchester for a portion of the year
now," said Mr. Crawley.
"I really do not know as yet; Mark talks of taking lodgings for his
first month's residence."
"But he will have the house, will he not?"
"Oh, yes; I suppose so."
"I fear he will find it interfere with his own parish--with his
general utility there: the schools, for instance."
"Mark thinks that, as he is so near, he need not be much absent from
Framley, even during his residence. And then Lady Lufton is so good
about the schools."
"Ah! yes: but Lady Lufton is not a clergyman, Miss Robarts." It was
on Lucy's tongue to say that her ladyship was pretty nearly as bad,
but she stopped herself. At this moment Providence sent great relief
to Miss Robarts in the shape of Mrs. Crawley's red-armed
maid-of-all-work, who, walking up to her master, whispered into his
ear that he was wanted. It was the time of day at which his
attendance was always required in his parish school; and that
attendance being so punctually given, those who wanted him looked for
him there at this hour, and if he were absent, did not scruple to
send for him.
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