Fanny glanced at him cautiously out of the corner of her eye. One never knew but to expect another scarab army. And yet, she had to admit that Mr. Yates regurgitating beetles had been a rather wickedly gratifying sight. . . .

“As you please, ma’am, but I meant my father’s opinion as to the propriety of the invitation’s being accepted—I think he will consider it a right thing by Mrs. Grant, as well as by Fanny, that being the first invitation it should be accepted.”

“I do not know. We will ask him. But he will be very much surprised that Mrs. Grant should ask Fanny at all.”

There was nothing more to be said, till Sir Thomas were present. Since it involved Lady Bertram’s own evening’s comfort for the morrow, so much uppermost in her mind, she called him to ask.

Her tone of calm languor, for she never took the trouble of raising her voice, was always heard and attended to; and Sir Thomas attended. Fanny immediately slipped out of the room; for to hear herself the subject of any discussion with her uncle was more than her nerves could bear. She was more anxious perhaps than she ought to be—but if her uncle were to have grave looks directed to her, and at last decide against her, she might not be able to appear properly submissive and indifferent. Her cause, meanwhile, went on well. It began, on Lady Bertram’s part, with—“I have something to tell you that will surprise you. Mrs. Grant has asked Fanny to dinner.”

“Well,” said Sir Thomas, as if waiting more to accomplish the surprise.

“Edmund wants her to go. But how can I spare her?”

“She will be late,” said Sir Thomas, taking out his watch; “but what is your difficulty?”

Edmund found himself obliged to speak and fill up the blanks in his mother’s story. He told the whole; and she had only to add, “So strange! for Mrs. Grant never used to ask her.”

“But is it not very natural,” observed Edmund, “that Mrs. Grant should wish to procure so agreeable a visitor for her sister?”

“Nothing can be more natural,” said Sir Thomas, after a short deliberation; “I can see no reason why she should be denied the indulgence.”

“But can I do without her, Sir Thomas?”

“Indeed I think you may.”

“She always makes tea, you know, when my sister is not here.”

“Your sister, perhaps, may be prevailed on to spend the day with us, and I shall certainly be at home.”

“Very well, then, Fanny may go, Edmund.”

The good news soon followed her. Edmund knocked at her door on his way to his own.

“Well, Fanny, it is all happily settled, and without the smallest hesitation on your uncle’s side. He had but one opinion. You are to go.”