"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
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.