At this point his meditations were interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Slade, who was ushered in by his mother. The poor little woman's black eyes were red with weeping, and she seemed to be greatly agitated. Terror struck at Johnson's heart; for so many ills had befallen him that he quite expected more to follow. The sight of Mrs. Slade in this tearful condition made him fear she was a messenger of evil.
"What is the matter?" he asked, rising nervously when they were alone.
"Oh, sir," cried Mrs. Slade, dropping limply into a chair, "I know you ain't no parson of mine, as I was brought up in the Church of England. But you're the only parson that I can come to for advice. You are her friend, you know."
"Whose friend?"
"That Bithiah--Tera--oh, I don't know what her heathen name is, but she's a minx if ever there was one."
"Mrs. Slade, I cannot hear Bithiah spoken of like this. Why do you cry? What have you to urge against her?"
"Jeremiah!" said Mrs. Slade, and began to weep anew.
"Your husband?" said Johnson, beginning to feel impatient--for after all she did not belong to Bethgamul; "what of him?"
"He's a beast!"
"Did you come here to tell me that? I must confess I take no interest in your domestic affairs, Mrs. Slade."