Elizabeth had gone round to the side of the house, where the chickens lived, so that Mary found herself alone, holding Ralph's letter in her hand.

She was uneasy.

She had put off the season for thinking things out very successfully, and now that Ralph was actually coming, the next day, she could only wonder how her family would impress him.

She thought it likely that her father would discuss the train service with him; Elizabeth would be bright and sensible, and always leaving the room to give messages to the servants.
Her brothers had already said that they would give him a day's shooting.
She was content to leave the problem of Ralph's relations to the young men obscure, trusting that they would find some common ground of masculine agreement.

But what would he think of HER?
Would he see that she was different from the rest of the family?
She devised a plan for taking him to her sitting-room, and artfully leading the talk towards the English poets, who now occupied prominent places in her little bookcase.