“Is _she_ at Brighton? Then there’s one fool more in a fashionable watering place. Oh, she’s in Switzerland, is she? I don’t care where she is; I only care about Mr. Mirabel. We all heard he was at Brighton for his health, and was going to preach. Didn’t we cram the church! As to describing him, I give it up. He is the only little man I ever admired--hair as long as mine, and the sort of beard you see in pictures. I wish I had his fair complexion and his white hands. We were all in love with him--or with his voice, which was it?--when he began to read the commandments. I wish I could imitate him when he came to the fifth commandment. He began in his deepest bass voice: ‘Honor thy father--’ He stopped and looked up to heaven as if he saw the rest of it there. He went on with a tremendous emphasis on the next word. ‘_And_ thy mother,’ he said (as if that was quite a different thing) in a tearful, fluty, quivering voice which was a compliment to mothers in itself. We all felt it, mothers or not. But the great sensation was when he got into the pulpit. The manner in which he dropped on his knees, and hid his face in his hands, and showed his beautiful rings was, as a young lady said behind me, simply seraphic. We understood his celebrity, from that moment--I wonder whether I can remember the sermon.” “You needn’t attempt it on my account,” Emily said. “My dear, don’t be obstinate. Wait till you hear him.” “I am quite content to wait.” “Ah, you’re just in the right state of mind to be converted; you’re in a fair way to become one of his greatest admirers. They say he is so agreeable in private life; I am dying to know him.--Do I hear a ring at the bell? Is somebody else coming to see you?” The servant brought in a card and a message. “The person will call again, miss.” Emily looked at the name written on the card. “Mrs. Ellmother!” she exclaimed. “What an extraordinary name!” cried Francine. “Who is she?” “My aunt’s old servant.” “Does she want a situation?” Emily looked at some lines of writing at the back of the card. Doctor Allday had rightly foreseen events. Rejected by the doctor, Mrs. Ellmother had no alternative but to ask Emily to help her. “If she is out of place,” Francine went on, “she may be just the sort of person I am looking for.” “You?” Emily asked, in astonishment. Francine refused to explain until she got an answer to her question. “Tell me first,” she said, “is Mrs. Ellmother engaged?” “No; she wants an engagement, and she asks me to be her reference.” “Is she sober, honest, middle-aged, clean, steady, good-tempered, industrious?” Francine rattled on. “Has she all the virtues, and none of the vices? Is she not too good-looking, and has she no male followers? In one terrible word--will she satisfy Miss Ladd?” “What has Miss Ladd to do with it?”