There was a murmur of dissatisfaction at this; but I quelled it directly, stating, that “I wished there should be no interruption; we would all be perfectly quiet, and would listen to what Mrs A— had to say.”
After a minute or two another woman attempted to speak, but I stopped her.
“Anything you like, presently; but this is Mrs A—’s time.”
Poor Mrs A—! it was her time, indeed. There we sat, the clock went “tick, tick,” the needles went “click, click,” although most of the workers stopped in astonishment. Even the babies did not relieve us by a squall. The silence was terrible, Mrs A— would have known how to have acted in a storm; there she would have been in her element,—none could outstorm a storm better than she; but this calm was dreadful. She had sense enough to know she had brought this difficulty upon herself; that I was simply standing on one side, to let her folly fall directly upon herself. She did not say anything, but it was evident she inwardly writhed under the infliction, even more than I had expected; and I have thought since, that the punishment partook of the refinement of cruelty. After this silence had lasted three or four minutes, I observed, that I supposed she did not remember what she had intended to say; and I went on again where I left off, as if nothing had happened.
When the meeting was over, and the women were going out, I saw Mrs A— standing irresolutely near the door. She evidently did not like to leave without “giving it to me well,” and yet she had sense enough to know there was no one to blame but herself. I called to her, and asked her if she would arrange the work-bags for me; she came back, and before she had finished, the other women were all gone, and we were alone. I then said to her—
“Mrs A—, it has been no pleasure to me to make you feel so uncomfortable this evening; I have been waiting for some weeks past, in the hope that your own good sense would shew you the necessity of accommodating yourself to our plans and rules. I can scarcely make as much excuse for your behaviour as I should for a child. A child is often compelled to go where he does not like; but every one who comes here, comes of her own free will, and need never pay a second visit, if it is not agreeable.”
“I wish I had never come a-nigh the place.”
“You have been uncomfortable this evening, I know; but you forget how many evenings before this you have made me uncomfortable. If only a very few were to act as you have done, our meetings would be brought into such disorder that it would be folly to attempt to meet at all. One principal thing for which many of these women value the meetings is, that they are quiet. It would be no kindness to them to bring them out of the bustle and confusion of home into another scene of bustle and confusion. Now, will you answer me this one question? Do you think I should be a fit person to preside over this meeting, if I could not, and did not check such annoyance and interruption as you have caused?”
“Why, no; I do think I am a sort of a fool;” and the long pent-up feelings of mortification began to vent themselves in tears.
“I did not think that,” I replied. “I have often looked at you, and admired the ability and energy which you have shewn. Why, I think you could cut out work fester than any three of the rest of us put together; and you have a good idea of order and arrangement, too. I have already learned some things of you, and you could help me a great deal, if you would.”