“Ah!” said Mr. Brown, softly rubbing his palms together, “the numbers that I can testify to, made holy and pure almost by looking at this inestimable creature! Madam, she is a woman in ten thousand. I find her the meet companion for a perfect Christian.” “Mrs. Brown is too well known for me to question anything you can say in her favor,” answered Mrs. Judson, with lofty patronage in her look and manner. “But the importance of her mission over all others—the sacrifice, the prayers, the necessity for abundant means, every cent of which is sure to redound to the glory of God, through her hands,—have you thought prayerfully of that, dear lady?” continued Mr. Brown, growing sharp and eager in his eloquence. “Why, one dollar in that woman’s hands will go further in saving immortal souls than ten, through some channels that I might speak of. Do not suppose I refer to the distribution of books or the writers thereof; far be it from me to disparage the usefulness of Mrs. Brown’s friends, but when large sums of money are to be distributed—hem, ahem!” Here Mr. Brown cut off his sentence ignominiously, for little Mrs. Green came bustling up, holding her handkerchief and fan as if they had been a bunch of tracts which she was bound to deliver at a moment’s notice. “Ah! here you are, ardent in the good work, faithful among the faithful. Dear Mrs. Brown, what a treasure you have in this excellent man; some one to strengthen your hands, while I—” Here Mrs. Green lifted two plump hands, cased in a pair of over-tight gloves, and shook her head mournfully, indicating a great loss, or want, perhaps both; for the lady had lost her shadow two years before, and her grief had already reached the silver-gray stage of consolation. “Yes,” replied Mrs. Brown, wringing her hands, “I really should not know what to do without him. So occupied as I am with this heavenly work, there is great necessity that some trustworthy person should be at home and see to things there. Ah, yes! Mr. Brown is invaluable.” Mr. Brown put one hand on his heart and bent nearly double in the humility of his gratitude. “See her! hear her!” he said; “always depreciating herself and exalting others. If ever there was a pattern, Mrs. Judson, a pattern,—well, my dear, I forbear; the blushes on that cheek shall always be sacred to your husband. I forbear.” Here Mr. Brown waved his handkerchief twice while lifting it to his face, and retreated gracefully, walking backward. “Ah!” whimpered Mrs. Green, “it would be such a pleasure to witness a scene like this but for the memories it brings. There was a time when I, even I,—but the thought is too much, excuse me.” Here the little woman drew a tiny handkerchief from her pocket; but as neither of the ladies seemed much impressed, thought better of it, and did not cry at all. If Mr. Brown had remained, perhaps it might have been otherwise.