Mr. Rushworth came back from the Parsonage successful. And Edmund made his appearance just in time to learn what had been settled for Wednesday, to attend Mrs. Rushworth to her carriage, and walk half-way down the park with the two other ladies, to be sure they were safe—since peculiar strangers have been seen lately lurking on the property.

On his return to the breakfast-room, he found Mrs. Norris trying to make up her mind as to whether Miss Crawford’s being of the party were desirable or not, or whether her brother’s barouche would not be full without her. The Miss Bertrams laughed at the idea, assuring her that the barouche would hold four perfectly well, independent of the box, on which one might go with him.

“But why is it necessary,” said Edmund, “that only Crawford’s carriage should be employed? Why is no use to be made of my mother’s chaise? I could not, when the scheme was first mentioned the other day, understand why a visit from the family were not to be made in the carriage of the family.”

“What!” cried Julia: “go boxed up three in a postchaise in this weather, when we may have seats in a barouche! No, my dear Edmund, that will not quite do.”

“Besides,” said Maria, “I know that Mr. Crawford depends upon taking us. Indeed, he would claim it as a promise.”

“And, my dear Edmund,” added Mrs. Norris, “taking out two carriages when one will do, would be trouble for nothing. And, coachman is not very fond of the roads between here and Sotherton. He always complains bitterly of the narrow lanes scratching his carriage. Indeed, one should not like to have dear Sir Thomas, when he comes home, find all the varnish scratched off. And especially now, says Wilcox, there are some strange louts seen mulling about, who might be up to no good—”

“Louts? Varnish? That would not be a very handsome reason for using Mr. Crawford’s,” said Maria; “but the truth is, Wilcox is a stupid old fellow, and does not know how to drive. I will answer for it that we shall find no inconvenience from narrow roads on Wednesday. Not if all the vagrant populace of the county descends upon us in an attempt to rob or loot or even merely remove precious varnish with branches ripped from trees for just such an occasion!”

“There is no hardship, I suppose, nothing unpleasant,” said Edmund, “in going on the barouche box.”

“Unpleasant!” cried Maria: “oh dear! I believe it would be generally thought the favourite seat. There can be no comparison as to one’s view of the country. Probably Miss Crawford will choose the barouche-box herself.”

“There can be no objection, then, to Fanny’s going with you. There can be no doubt of your having room for her.”