“But,” said Grace, “can we run counter to our clergyman’s direct wishes?”

“Yes, when he steps out of his province.  My dear Grace, you grew up in the days of curatolatry, but it won’t do; men are fallible even when they preach in a surplice, and you may be thankful to me that you and Fanny are not both led along in a string in the train of Mr. Touchett’s devotees!”

“I wish I knew what was right to do,” said Grace, quietly, and she remained wishing it after Rachel had said a great deal more; but the upshot of it was, that one day when Grace and Fanny were walking together on the esplanade, they met Mr. Touchett, and Grace said to him, “We have been thinking it over, and we thought, perhaps, you would not wish us not to give any orders to Mrs. Kelland.  I know she has behaved very ill; but I don’t see how she is to get on, and she has this child on her hands.”

“I know,” said Mr. Touchett, “but really it was flagrant.”

“Oh,” said Lady Temple, gently, “I dare say she didn’t mean it, and you could not be hard on a widow.”

“Well,” said Mr. Touchett, “Miss Brown was very much put out, and—­ and—­it is a great pity about the child, but I never thought myself that such strong measures would do any good.”

“Then you will not object to her being employed?”

“No, not at all.  From a distance, it is not the same thing as close at home; it won’t be an example.”

“Thank you,” said Grace; and “I am so glad,” said Lady Temple; and Mr. Touchett went on his way, lightened of his fear of having let his zealous coadjutors oppress the hard-working, and far more brightened by the sweet smile of requital, but all the time doubtful whether he had been weak.  As to the victory, Rachel only laughed, and said, “If it made Grace more comfortable, it was well, except for that acknowledgment of Mr. Touchett’s jurisdiction.”

A few days after, Rachel made her appearance in Mackerel Lane, and announced her intention of consulting Ermine Williams under seal of secrecy.  “I have an essay that I wish you to judge of before I send it to the ‘Traveller.’”

“Indeed!” said Ermine, her colour rising.  “Would it not be better—­”

“Oh, I know what you mean, but don’t scruple on that score.  At my age, with a mother like mine, it is simply to avoid teasing and excitement that I am silent.”

“I was going to say I was hardly a fair—­”

“Because of your different opinions?  But those go for nothing.  You are a worthy antagonist, and enter into my views as my mother and sister cannot do, even while you oppose them.”

“But I don’t think I can help you, even if—­”

“I don’t want help; I only want you to judge of the composition.  In fact, I read it to you that I may hear it myself.”

Ermine resigned herself.

“‘Curatolatry is a species—­’”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Curatolatry.  Ah!  I thought that would attract attention.”