As she was sauntering up and down the house, leaning on the arm of Emma, bitterly deploring the continued descent of the rain, which precluded the hope of their getting out of doors, she broke in upon Miss Holmes, busily engaged in finishing a dress for a poor woman, who was daily expecting the birth of her firstborn.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Holmes, for this act of intrusion. We are sauntering away dull time."
"Walk in, and I will give you some employment."
"Indeed, I am not fit for work. This is one of the dullest days of my life. I wish the rain was over and gone. Is it not a great misfortune that it should come to-day?"
"Perhaps, my dear Miss Orme, it is sent by our heavenly Father to prevent some greater misfortune."
"That's what your Papa has just been telling us. What a striking coincidence between his sentiments and yours! They are new ideas to me. Very devout and proper."
"Sister is Papa's living echo," remarked Emma.
"As you two idlers," said Miss Holmes, "have nothing to do but saunter away time, perhaps (addressing Miss Orme) you would have no objection to read, it may prove a little relief to your dulness."
There were several books lying on the table, which she carelessly examined and closed, when Emma said, "Here is one which you have not seen." She took it, read the title—An Inquiry into the Duties of the Female Sex. "A learned dissertation, I have no doubt, on woman. I wonder what he says. He has, I see, a chapter on the employment of time; shall I read that, Miss Holmes?"
"If you please."