Her coming gave me a chance to do some sewing, and with Clara’s help about cutting (and she sewed with me), the needed spring and summer apparel and house linen were fashioned and made ready for use.  The days passed pleasantly to us all, and though I had watched Clara closely, she betrayed neither by word nor sign anything that savored of dislike toward Professor Benton; and still, sometimes, I felt that unexplainable something that once in a while tried as it were to shape itself before me, and as often vanished in mist.  We had long evenings, and many new topics were introduced and discussed.  I had access to Clara’s large and well selected library, and I improved every opportunity to inform myself on doubtful subjects.  Sometimes I despaired of knowing anything new, and again my brain would seem clearer, and would take in the new thoughts with keen perception.  When, however, we came to talk upon these same subjects, I sat nearly dumb; I could summon no thoughts nor words to frame them.  Even this stupidity had its advantage, for Mr. Benton (Hal called him Will) was a good talker, and had, as all talkers have, a great respect for a good listener, and he often said to me: 

“You have a heart to appreciate rare truths, Miss Minot.”

Clara was gifted in conversation, but did not always express her sentiments with great freedom.

If we touched on things nearest her heart, and I believe the doing of good each to the other was her highest thought, she was at home, and her blue eyes would glow with light, as in her own sweet way she talked long and earnestly.  I shall never forget the first time Mr. Benton noticed this point in her organization.  The newsmonger of our town had been to see us, had spent the afternoon and taken tea, and while it was amusement for me to hear her gossip incessantly about this thing and that, this person and the other, Clara was greatly annoyed by it.  It caused a righteous indignation to rise within her, and when after the visit we were seated by the antique centre table in her sitting-room, the conversation turned upon the peculiarities of this scandal-loving Jane North.

Clara expressed herself freely on the subject of small talk, as she termed scandal.  Her eyes dilated, her small hands were folded tightly, and when she closed it was with this last feeling sentence: 

“I can only say, ‘Father, forgive them, they know not what they do,’ who scatter the theme of contention where roses should appear, and in tearing down the habitation of their neighbors lose also their own; for they who have respect for themselves will have respect for their neighbors.  May we yet live to understand the meaning of the words, ’Love ye one another.’  When this shall be, oh, my more than friends, when this shall be, we shall know each other, even as we are known!  No secret blight shall cover any life, no worm of regret gnaw at the tree of our unfolding lives!  We shall all be as a unit, and our Father who seeth