Too happy to keep his guests to himself, the Colonel had fixed the
next Thursday for a fete, and wanted all the world to come to it--the
Kendals, every one of them--if they could only sleep there--but
Albinia brought him to confession that he had promised to lodge five
people more than the house would hold; and the aunts were at the
parsonage, where nobody ventured to crowd their servants.
But there was a moon--and though Mr. Kendal would not allow that she
was the harvest moon, the hospitable Colonel dilated on her as if she
had been bed, board, and lodging, and he did not find much difficulty
in his persuasions.
Few invitations ever gave more delight; Albinia appreciated a holiday
to the utmost, and the whole family was happy at Sophy's chance of at
length seeing Fairmead, and taking part in a little gaiety. And if
Mr. Kendal's expectations of pleasure were less high, he submitted
very well, smiled benignantly at the felicity around him, and was not
once seen to shudder.
Sarah Anne Drury had been invited to enliven grandmamma, and every
one augured a beautiful day and perfect enjoyment. The morning was
beautiful, but alas! Sophy was hors de combat, far too unwell to
think of making one of the party. She bore the disappointment
magnanimously, and even the pity. Every one was sorry, and Gilbert
wanted her to go and wait at Fairmead Parsonage for the chance of
improving, promising to come and fetch her for any part of the
entertainment; and her father told her that he had looked to her as
his chief companion while the gay people were taking their pleasure.
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