"What is the matter with my clothes?" she asked. "You, whom your own father turned into the streets, to dare to place yourself upon an equality with me!" The big woman turned with an affable smile to the little one, who stood trembling and sniffing in the centre of the room. "Queer old-fashioned folk they are this side. Now, to my thinking, one lady oughtn't to remind another lady of things she wishes to be forgotten." The little woman bobbed her knotted handkerchief into her eyes. "Oh, Louisa, how can you now!" Mrs. Harland raised her arm, semaphore fashion. "Leave the room!" she said. The big woman settled herself more comfortably in the easy-chair. "Not me. Not unless I take my sons along with me. You have received their father's money, which is mine; if you receive my money you'll receive me too--we go together." "_I_ have received your money--yours! Who are you?" "There's my card." The big woman waved her hand in the direction of the mantelshelf. "I've another in my pocket, and I've told you who I am besides; but, to oblige you, I don't mind telling you who I am again. I'm Mrs. Bindon." Mrs. Harland turned upon the little woman. There was frenzy in her air. "Then who are you?" Said the little woman, between her sniffs: "I am Mrs. Bindon too." "You are Mrs. Bindon too! Is the man a bigamist?" The big woman smiled. "There is no bigamy in Utah." "Utah!" Mrs. Harland staggered back. "Utah!" She looked wildly round the room. "Isn't Utah where the Mormons are?" The big woman, taking out a large white handkerchief, proceeded, at one and the same time, to fan herself, and to diffuse a strong odour of patchouli. "Utah is, upon earth, the abiding place of the saints," she said. Mrs. Harland echoed her words. "The abiding place of the saints." A vehicle was approaching the house. It could be seen through the window. "I think," observed the big woman, as she raised her _pince-nez_, "that here are some of the other Mrs. Bindons." Rising from her seat she opened the drawing-room door. "Come in, my dears," she said, addressing some person or persons without; "I am here, and Mrs. Jane." As she held the door wide open a procession began to enter the room--a procession of women. They were of all styles and shapes and sizes. There were fat and there were thin. They were attired in all the colours of the rainbow. Mrs. Harland, who began to think that her senses must be leaving her, distinctly counted seven. The seven, with the two already arrived, made nine--nine Mrs. Bindons. How the seven had journeyed in a single fly is one of the mysteries which are not yet unfolded. The big woman acted as mistress of the ceremonies. "Sit down, my dears, there are seats for you all. I am sure you will excuse a little crowding." "Where's the teacher?" asked a short, thick-set woman, who had seated herself with her legs apart, and her hands set squarely on her knees. "That is more than I can tell you. But here's his wife."