were plenty of questions to be asked on both sides--the latest
intelligence which each could give of Mrs. Shaw's movements in
Italy to be exchanged; and in the interest of what was said, the
unpretending simplicity of the parsonage-ways--above all, in the
neighbourhood of Margaret, Mr. Lennox forgot the little feeling
of disappointment with which he had at first perceived that she
had spoken but the simple truth when she had described her
father's living as very small.

'Margaret, my child, you might have gathered us some pears for
our dessert,' said Mr. Hale, as the hospitable luxury of a
freshly-decanted bottle of wine was placed on the table.

Mrs. Hale was hurried. It seemed as if desserts were impromptu
and unusual things at the parsonage; whereas, if Mr. Hale would
only have looked behind him, he would have seen biscuits and
marmalade, and what not, all arranged in formal order on the
sideboard. But the idea of pears had taken possession of Mr.
Hale's mind, and was not to be got rid of.

'There are a few brown beurres against the south wall which are
worth all foreign fruits and preserves. Run, Margaret, and gather
us some.'

'I propose that we adjourn into the garden, and eat them there'
said Mr. Lennox.

'Nothing is so delicious as to set one's teeth into the crisp,
juicy fruit, warm and scented by the sun. The worst is, the wasps
are impudent enough to dispute it with one, even at the very