After she had gone, her conversation troubled me a great deal. What did it all mean? Had the busybodies been trying to bring about an alliance between my husband and Carrie? Had Brigham Young been working all along to this end? However it might be, I resolved that, at least, Carrie should know nothing of the matter from me.
One morning, the Apostle Heber C. Kimball called in his carriage. It was very early, being only about seven o’clock. Mr. Stenhouse went out to see him, but in his blunt way he said: “I do not want you, I want Sister Fanny to take a ride with me.” My husband brought him into the house and he told me he wanted to have a talk with me. “You must not fix up,” he said, “or I won’t ride with you. Come along in your wrapper and slippers, and just put on your sun-bonnet.”
I told him that I never went out in a sun-bonnet. “Well, then, do it for the first time,” he said.
I suggested that I had had no breakfast, and asked him if he would wait and have some with us.
“No,” said he; “I have plenty of wives around this town, and we will find breakfast somewhere.” So I started just as I was, and he told the driver—who, I think, was one of his own sons—to call round and see “the folks”—meaning his wives. Then, turning to me, he said: “You never looked prettier, Sister Fanny; you ought always to wear a sun-bonnet, but you like dress a great deal too much—you will keep your husband poor, and then how will he be able to carry out the commands of God? Did you ever think of that? Then, again, you dress your children too much; it must take pretty well all your time to make their clothes; and see what it must cost. Now, I’m going to give you some good advice. Do what my folks do. I tell them to make a linsey dress for each of the children in the spring, and let them wear it all the summer; and then, when the winter comes, it will be so full of grease and dirt that it will be sure to keep them warm. Now I’m sure you won’t consent to do that with your children, so it is good counsel thrown away.” I knew well enough that Brother Heber was only jesting, for apparently he provided very well for his family, although he allowed them no luxuries. He went on to say: “But that isn’t what I wanted to speak to you about; I had something else to say. When is your husband going to marry Miss Grant? That girl has got to be looked after by some good man and woman, and I think that you and Brother Stenhouse will do first-class. What do you think?”
“I should not like my husband to marry her,” I said.
“And why not, Sister Fanny?” he asked.
“Because I myself love her,” I replied.
“Why, that is the very reason why he ought to do it the sooner,” he said, “and you would continue to love her, and love her all the better too, when she belonged to your husband, and when you saw how much he loved her.” He laughed outright as he said this, and told me not to look so solemn. “Why,” he said, “it’s the finest thing in the world to develope love in the women; a man never gets so much attention in his life as when he has got several wives all trying their best to please him.”
“That may be,” I said; “but who is to pay attention to their wives?”