She looked anxiously toward the door.  At that moment it opened, and the office-boy entered.  She rose instantly, and Mrs. Stiles had to follow her example.  Mrs. Tarbell represented to herself that the rain would not hurt her, and that Mrs. Stiles must be got rid of, and, feeling that this could now be accomplished, smiled at Mrs. Stiles in a friendly and reassuring manner.

“Who was the gentleman who was ten years before he got any work to do?” said Mrs. Stiles, standing up very crooked and looking very bewildered.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Tarbell glibly, “that has happened to a great many lawyers.  Let me see:  I can’t at this moment recall—­Chief-Justice—­no—­Lord—­Lord—­Eldon,” she mumbled hastily, “and Lord-Kilgobbin, and Chief-Justice Coleridge, all had to wait a—­a longer or a shorter time.  In fact, it is very often a matter of chance that a lawyer obtains any business at all.”  She walked past Mrs. Stiles, and took up her umbrella.  Mrs. Stiles followed her with an irresolute glance.  Mrs. Tarbell put on her ulster.

“Celandine will be dreadful disappointed,” said Mrs. Stiles, in a mournful tone.  “And, dear me, Mrs. Tarbell, I never said a word to you about what she’s like; and me so proud of her, too.”

In spite of her success, Mrs. Tarbell was by no means satisfied with herself, and the pathetic note in Mrs. Stiles’s voice proved too much for her.  “Mrs. Stiles,” she said, turning round quickly, “perhaps I have been putting one side of the matter too strongly before you.  If you will bring your daughter here some morning, we can discuss the subject together for a little while, and I can advise her definitely as to what course I think she had better pursue.”

The expression of Mrs. Stiles’s face changed a little; she seemed to be surprised and gratified; but it was evident that the overthrow of her delusions in regard to the remunerative character of the legal profession had saddened and disturbed her.  “It’s right kind of you to take so much trouble, Mrs. Tarbell,” she said, buttoning up her gossamer.  “I feel as grateful to you as can be; but I don’t think I’ll tell Celandine all you’ve said, because—­”

“Perhaps it would be wiser,” said Mrs. Tarbell impatiently.

“And then, in a week or so—­”

“Precisely; a week or so.”  Mrs. Tarbell found that precisely was a very short and lawyer-like word, so she repeated it.

“Well, then—­” said Mrs. Stiles.

“Some time during the morning,” said Mrs. Tarbell; and she turned to the office-boy, with whom she began to converse in an undertone.  Mrs. Stiles came walking across the floor, slow and lugubrious.  She bade Mrs. Tarbell good-day.  Mrs. Tarbell bowed her out as quickly as possible, and then waited for a couple of minutes to give her time to get out of the way.

But on going down-stairs Mrs. Tarbell found her standing in the door-way, holding her umbrella half open and peering out into the rain, Mrs. Stiles explained that she was waiting for a car.