A vehicle was approaching the house. It could be seen through the window.
"I think," observed the big woman, as she raised her pince-nez, "that here are some of the other Mrs. Bindons."
Rising from her seat she opened the drawing-room door.
"Come in, my dears," she said, addressing some person or persons without; "I am here, and Mrs. Jane."
As she held the door wide open a procession began to enter the room--a procession of women. They were of all styles and shapes and sizes. There were fat and there were thin. They were attired in all the colours of the rainbow. Mrs. Harland, who began to think that her senses must be leaving her, distinctly counted seven. The seven, with the two already arrived, made nine--nine Mrs. Bindons. How the seven had journeyed in a single fly is one of the mysteries which are not yet unfolded. The big woman acted as mistress of the ceremonies.
"Sit down, my dears, there are seats for you all. I am sure you will excuse a little crowding."
"Where's the teacher?" asked a short, thick-set woman, who had seated herself with her legs apart, and her hands set squarely on her knees.
"That is more than I can tell you. But here's his wife."
The big woman waved her handkerchief and an odour of patchouli towards Mrs. Harland.
"Oh, you're the schoolmarm?" The thickset woman eyed Mrs. Harland as though she were taking her mental measurement "Where's them boys of mine?"