'
Mrs. Grubb's face fell, and her hand relaxed its grasp upon the
pencil. (If there was anything she enjoyed, it was the sensation of
being a pioneer in any movement.) Presently she brightened again.
'If it is just starting,' she said, 'then it must need more members,
and speakers to stir up the community. Now, I am calculated, by
constant association with a child of this character, to be of signal
service to the cause. Not many persons have had my chance to observe
phenomena. Just give me a letter to the president,--have they
elected officers yet?--where do they meet?--and tell him I'll call on
him and throw all the weight of my influence on his side. It's
wonderful! Handel, Moliere, Buddha, was it--Buddha?--Caesar,
Petrarch, and Wellington,--no, not Wellington. Never mind, I'll get
a list from you to-morrow and look it all up,--it's perfectly
marvellous! And I have one of this great, unhappy, suffering class
in my own family, one who may yet be transformed into an Elizabeth
Browning or a Joan of Arc!'
Mistress Mary sighed in her heart. She learned more of Mrs. Grubb
with every interview, and she knew that her enthusiasms were as
discouraging as her apathies.
'How unlucky that I mentioned Napoleon, Caesar, and Mohammed!' she
thought.
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