A few days after this visit, Mr. Bingley called again, and alone. His friend had left him that morning for London, but was to return home in ten days time. He sat with them above an hour, and was in remarkably good spirits. Mrs. Bennet invited him to dine with them; but, with many expressions of concern, he confessed himself engaged elsewhere.

     "Next time you call," said she, "I hope we shall be more lucky."

     He should be particularly happy at any time, etc. etc.; and if she would give him leave, would take an early opportunity of waiting on them.

     "Can you come to-morrow?"

     Yes, he had no engagement at all for to-morrow; and her invitation was accepted with alacrity.

     He came, and in such very good time that the ladies were none of them dressed. In ran Mrs. Bennet to her daughter's room, in her dressing gown, and with her hair half finished, crying out:

     "My dear Jane, make haste and hurry down. He is come--Mr. Bingley is come. He is, indeed. Make haste, make haste. Here, Sarah, come to Miss Bennet this moment, and help her on with her gown. Never mind Miss Lizzy's hair."