“Next time you call,”said she,“I hope we shall be more lucky.”He should be particularly happy at any time,etc.etc.;and if she would give him leave,would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.
“My dear Jane,make haste and hurry down.He is come―Mr. Bingley is come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah,come to Miss Bennet this moment,and help her on with her gown.Never mind Miss Lizzy's hair.”
He scarcely needed an invitation to stay supper;and before he went away,an engagement was formed,chiefly through his own and Mrs.Bennet's means,for his coming next morning to shoot with her husband.
“Lizzy,my dear,I want to speak with you.”
He came,and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them dressed.In ran Mrs.Bennet to her daughter's room,in her dressing gown,and with her hair half finished,crying out:
“Oh!hang Kitty!what has she to do with it?Come be quick,be quick!Where is your sash,my dear?”
Bingley was punctual to his appointment; and he and Mr. Bennet spent the morning together,as had been agreed on.The latter was much more agreeable than his companion expected. There was nothing of presumption or folly in Bingley that could provoke his ridicule,or disgust him into silence;and he was more communicative,and less eccentric,than the other had ever seen him. Bingley of course returned with him to dinner; and in the evening Mrs.Bennet's invention was again at work to get every body away from him and her daughter.Elizabeth,who had a letter to write,went into the breakfast room for that purpose soon after tea;for as the others were all going to sit down to cards,she could not be wanted to counteract her mother's schemes.