"Yes," put in the dowager; "and that is all. It is a spectacle!"
"Judge Craven's wife and Major Boyd are amongst the converts; and the
Rev. Allan Baily," said the lady, with a wink at Helen.
"Oh, my God!" exclaimed the dowager; "Mr. Baily! It must be a lie—I declare it must!"
"Will you have my sal-volatile, madam?" said the malicious lady, enjoying the scene, while she offered her vinaigrette.
"I won't believe it. Who told you, Mrs. Grayson?"
"Himself," replied Mrs. Grayson, calmly.
"He's crazy! He's been flighty these two years, with his long coats, and fast-days, and confession," cried the dowager, fanning herself violently, and snuffing the sal-volatile, until she grew purple in the face. "As to the others, they are doting. I'll go this moment, if you'll excuse me, Mrs. Jerrold, and make my coachman drive me there; and if he has done so, I'll rouse him, as sure as I have a tongue in my head. I knew him when he was a boy, and I protest against it," she said, screaming like an angry macaw, as she fluttered out.
"The town's crazy about Mr. Baily's conversion. I am not surprised at Mrs. Fanshaw's excitement. But let us make up a party, and go tonight, Mrs. Jerrold. The gentleman who conducts this thing, and pulls the wires, is a man of irresistible eloquence. He was one of us a few years ago."
"It would be dangerous to venture, I should think," said Helen, with a dim smile; "but if Mr. Jerrold has no other engagement—"
"Is it of the famous 'Mission' you are speaking, Helen?" interrupted her mother-in-law, rustling in silk and jewels, "Yes; of course we must go. We shall be quite out of the fashion, if we do not. The most distingué persons in town are to be there this evening."