"Miss Vickary, I—" he protested.
"Jael," pleaded my Grandmother.
"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Lee. I don't mind, I don't really."
He looked across the table in a bee-line at my Grandmother, as though Aunt Jael did not exist: the proper punishment for people who lose their temper, the most pleasant revenge for those who keep theirs. "No, no, don't worry; of course I don't mind. To be sure, I didn't come here to discuss my own life in the next world but your little granddaughter's in this. I can never forget her mother's kindness to me, I want you to let me do something for her."
Aunt Jael recommenced eating, tired with shouting, beaten after all.
He had so swiftly but irrevocably changed the subject that she could not easily go back to Brother Briggs and Eternal Life. My opinion of the Stranger rose every moment. As a loyal Saint I had not liked his slight note of superiority when he spoke of Brother Briggs, but the moment Aunt Jael attacked him I was of course of his party through thick and thin. And I realized the every-day worldly point of view just enough to see that a peer of England is not accustomed to being railed and shouted at by an old woman he hardly knows, least of all when he is paying a courtesy visit to her in her own house, and decided that the way he kept his temper was wonderful, as well as the shrewdest for getting equal with Aunt Jael. With every reply, modelled on my own method, my opinion of the Stranger rose. And now that he spoke with reverence of my mother and of "doing things" for me my admiration knew no bounds. He was perfect.
Grandmother was replying to him. "Thank you kindly; we need no help. The child needs nothing but the love and mercy of the Lord."
"Quite so, but worldly advantages—"
"I need no worldly advantages for her, they could do nothing for her if she had them. She is dedicated to the Lord's service in foreign parts, and her whole life will be spent among the heathen."
Now or never I must strike for freedom.