Mrs. Clinch was unperturbed. "Perhaps that's just as well," she
returned, with a philosophic shrug. "The surprise will be all the
pleasanter, I mean. For of course it's going to sell tremendously;
especially if you can get the press to denounce it."

"Bella, how _can_ you? I sometimes think you say such things expressly
to tease me; and yet I should think you of all women would understand
my purpose in writing such a book. It has always seemed to me that the
message I had to deliver was not for myself alone, but for all the
other women in the world who have felt the hollowness of our social
shams, the ignominy of bowing down to the idols of the market, but have
lacked either the courage or the power to proclaim their independence;
and I have fancied, Bella dear, that, however severely society might
punish me for revealing its weaknesses, I could count on the sympathy
of those who, like you"--Mrs. Fetherel's voice sank--"have passed
through the deep waters."

Mrs. Clinch gave herself a kind of canine shake, as though to free her
ample shoulders from any drop of the element she was supposed to have
traversed.

"Oh, call them muddy rather than deep," she returned; "and you'll find,
my dear, that women who've had any wading to do are rather shy of
stirring up mud. It sticks--especially on white clothes."

Mrs. Fetherel lifted an undaunted brow. "I'm not afraid," she
proclaimed; and at the same instant she dropped her tea-spoon with a
clatter and shrank back into her seat. "There's the bell," she
exclaimed, "and I know it's the Bishop!"

It was in fact the Bishop of Ossining, who, impressively announced by
Mrs. Fetherel's butler, now made an entry that may best be described as
not inadequate to the expectations the announcement raised. The Bishop
always entered a room well; but, when unannounced, or preceded by a Low
Church butler who gave him his surname, his appearance lacked the
impressiveness conferred on it by the due specification of his diocesan
dignity. The Bishop was very fond of his niece Mrs. Fetherel, and one
of the traits he most valued in her was the possession of a butler who
knew how to announce a bishop.

Mrs. Clinch was also his niece; but, aside from the fact that she
possessed no butler at all, she had laid herself open to her uncle's
criticism by writing insignificant little books which had a way of
going into five or ten editions, while the fruits of his own episcopal
leisure--"The Wail of Jona