"Dear Mr. Ablewhite," I said, "one word!"

When I first attracted the attention of the company by rising, I could

see that he was on the point of saying something rude to me. My sisterly

form of address checked him. He stared at me in heathen astonishment.

"As an affectionate well-wisher and friend," I proceeded, "and as one

long accustomed to arouse, convince, prepare, enlighten, and fortify

others, permit me to take the most pardonable of all liberties--the

liberty of composing your mind."

He began to recover himself; he was on the point of breaking out--he

WOULD have broken out, with anybody else. But my voice (habitually

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gentle) possesses a high note or so, in emergencies. In this emergency,

I felt imperatively called upon to have the highest voice of the two.

I held up my precious book before him; I rapped the open page

impressively with my forefinger. "Not my words!" I exclaimed, in a burst

of fervent interruption. "Oh, don't suppose that I claim attention for

My humble words! Manna in the wilderness, Mr. Ablewhite! Dew on the

parched earth! Words of comfort, words of wisdom, words of love--the

blessed, blessed, blessed words of Miss Jane Ann Stamper!"

I was stopped there by a momentary impediment of the breath. Before I

could recover myself, this monster in human form shouted out furiously, "Miss Jane Ann Stamper be----!"

It is impossible for me to write the awful word, which is here

represented by a blank. I shrieked as it passed his lips; I flew to my

little bag on the side table; I shook out all my tracts; I seized the

one particular tract on profane swearing, entitled, "Hush, for Heaven's

Sake!"; I handed it to him with an expression of agonised entreaty. He

tore it in two, and threw it back at me across the table. The rest of

them rose in alarm, not knowing what might happen next. I instantly sat

down again in my corner. There had once been an occasion, under somewhat

similar circumstances, when Miss Jane Ann Stamper had been taken by

the two shoulders and turned out of a room. I waited, inspired by HER

spirit, for a repetition of HER martyrdom.

But no--it was not to be. His wife was the next person whom he

addressed. "Who--who--who," he said, stammering with rage, "who asked

this impudent fanatic into the house? Did you?"

Before Aunt Ablewhite could say a word, Rachel answered for her.

"Miss Clack is here," she said, "as my guest."

Those words had a singular effect on Mr. Ablewhite. They suddenly

changed him from a man in a state of red-hot anger to a man in a state

of icy-cold contempt. It was plain to everybody that Rachel had said

something--short and plain as her answer had been--which gave him the

upper hand of her at last.




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