"Very true, my dear lady; but for our sakes, for my sake," and Mr. Balch lowered his tone, "do try to control them, though to me, a female without sensibility is a—a—monster, Mrs. Markham."
"I can't conceive of it," said that lady, in extreme disgust.
"No, of course you can not; how should you?" asked Balch. "I wish that I—we—I—dared say how much we think of you."
"Oh!" said Markham, with a little deprecatory waive of her hand, "I only do my duty, Mr. Balch."
"Yes, you do—a great deal more—much more than any one with less heart would think of doing; you are too modest, Mrs. Markham; you underrate yourself, Mrs. Markham; I shall move at the next meeting of the Board to have your salary raised," said Balch, with enthusiasm.
"Oh, I beg—I beg"—said Markham, covering her face with her hands—"pray don't, Mr. Balch—I am not at all mercenary."
"My dear lady," seizing her hands—"as if we—I—we—could think so—and of you? I shall certainly propose it at our next meeting, and if the Board haven't the means to do it, I know who has;" and Balch squeezed Markham's hand.