"We know very well, James, that your position is a trying one--that
since the death of poor Julia you have no one whom you can look to.
There is no use in telling us this over again; it is mere waste of
time. What we have to do now is by all means in our power to convince
dear Sally of the sinfulness of her conduct, and so strive to bring
her back to a state of grace."

"Her spirit must be broken, she must be subdued," interjected Aunt
Mary.

"Christ is the real healer, prayer is the true medicine, and by it
alone is the troubled spirit soothed."

It being impossible to contravene these opinions, the conversation
came to a pause, which was at length interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who
through the folds of his handkerchief declared again that it would be
all the same a hundred years hence. Even Aunt Mary's realism did not
offend Aunt Hester as did this un-Christian philosophy; she gathered
her strength for a grave reproof, but was cut short by her sister's
laughter. All the teeth were glittering now, and peal after peal of
laughter came. Aunt Hester's courage died, and her long, freckled face
drooped like a sad flower.

"Now let us hear something about Grace. What about this marriage? Is
Berkins as amorous as ever? That man does amuse me--his waistcoat
buttons are better than any other man's."

"Mary, Mary, I beg of you to remember Mr. Berkins is a man of eight
thousand a-year."