"And as for joking, stranger, I'd have you know that I'm no jokist. Bashemath and me have had to walk up from the depôt. The driver said his carriage wouldn't hold no more than seven. We didn't see the use of a carriage just for Bashemath and me, being both of a saving mind." "You will be glad to hear," remarked Mr. Harland, as he led the way to Mulberry House, a lady on either side of him, "that your sons all enjoy good health." "Lord save the man!" cried the lady with the glasses, "you don't suppose all them byes is mine. I've one of 'em, and he's enough--the limb! I've seven daughters, but they're Samuel Newton's, who is dead. The rest of them byes are Mr. Bindon's." "Are there"--Mr. Harland slightly coughed--"are there several Mr. Bindons?" The lady pulled up short. She turned and faced the gentleman. "Stranger, are you just sarsing?" "Madam! Only by inadvertence could a word escape my lips which would in any way cause annoyance to a lady." When they reached Mulberry House a couple of flys were standing at the front door. "I guess," observed the angular lady, "there's more of them come up than seven." As Mr. Harland and his companions ascended the steps two gentlemen came rushing down them. They were the drivers of the flys. Unless circumstances belied them they had been whiling away the interval of waiting by listening at the drawing-room door. In the hall were the cook, housemaid, and the small girl who acted as general help. Their presence in that particular spot required explanation. Their countenances, when they perceived their master, showed that it did. "What is the meaning of this?" inquired Mr. Harland. "Where's your mistress?" "If you please, sir, she's in the drawing-room." "Is she engaged?" "There are----" The girl choked back a giggle. "There are some ladies with her." "I guess," remarked the angular lady, "they're some of the other Mrs. Bindons." Three distinct and undeniable titters came from the servants. "Sarah," said Mr. Harland, sternly checking the disconcerted damsel as she was about to seek refuge with her colleagues in flight, "show these ladies into the drawing-room, and tell your mistress that I wish to speak to her in the study." "What--what on earth, Maria, is the meaning of this?" demanded Mr. Harland, as his wife made her appearance in his sanctum. The lady dropped into a chair. "Thank goodness, Andrew, you have come home. I don't know what I should have done if I had been left alone with them much longer." "Who are these women?" "They're the Mrs. Bindons." "The Mrs. Bindons! How many of them are there?" "There were nine. The two you brought make eleven." "Eleven! Eleven Mrs. Bindons! Maria!" "Andrew!" "Is--is the man a Mormon?" "Yes, he--he's a Mormon." "Maria! You don't mean that?" "I do. You remember Jane Cooper?" "The slut that you sent packing?" "She's here. She's one of the Mrs. Bindons. And Louisa Brown, she's another." "Not the Louisa Brown?"