And then Mr.Crawley returned home in the Framley Court gig.
Three or four days after this he walked over to Framley parsonage.
This he did on a Saturday, having learned that the hounds never hunted on that day; and he started early, so that he might be sure to catch Mr.Robarts before he went out on his parish business.

He was quite early enough to attain this object, for when he reached the parsonage door at about half-past nine, the vicar, with his wife and sister, were just sitting down to breakfast.

"Oh, Crawley," said Robarts, before the other had well spoken, "you are a capital fellow;" and then he got him into a chair, and Mrs.Robarts had poured him out tea, and Lucy had surrendered to him a knife and plate, before he knew under what guise to excuse his coming among them.
"I hope you will excuse this intrusion," at last he muttered; "but I have a few words of business to which I will request your attention presently." "Certainly," said Robarts, conveying a broiled kidney on to the plate before Mr.Crawley; "but there is no preparation for business like a good breakfast.

Lucy, hand Mr.Crawley the buttered toast.

Eggs, Fanny; where are the eggs ?" And then John, in livery, brought in the fresh eggs.