“Your friend was just here,” said the young lady, when I called again.  “He is a very handsome man.”

’"And a noble man!” I said.

’"And didn’t I hear you say that he was a very skilful man, too?”

’"A genius!” I answered, “an absolute genius!”

McClingan stopped and laughed heartily as he took a sip of water.

‘What happened then?’ said Miss I-lull.

‘She took him on my recommendation,’ he answered.  ’She said that, while he had the handsomer face, I had the more eloquent tongue.  And they both won for him.  And, upon me honour as a gentleman, it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, for she became a brawler and a scold.  My mother says there is “no the like o’ her in Scotland”.

I shall never forget how fondly Margaret Hull patted the brown cheek of Trumbull with her delicate white band, as we rose.

‘We all have our love stawries,’ said McClingan.

‘Mine is better than yours,’ she answered, ‘but it shall never be told.’

‘Except one little part if it,’ said Trumbull, as he put his hands upon her shoulders, and looked down into her face.  ’It is the only thing that has made my life worth living.’

Then she made us to know many odd things about her work for the children of misfortune — inviting us to come and see it for ourselves.  We were to go the next evening.

I finished my work at nine that night and then we walked through noisome streets and alleys — New York was then far from being so clean a city as now — to the big mission house.  As we came in at the door we saw a group of women kneeling before the altar at the far end of the room, and heard the voice of Margaret Hull praying’ a voice so sweet and tender that we bowed our heads at once, and listened while it quickened the life in us.  She plead for the poor creatures about her, to whom Christ gave always the most abundant pity, seeing they were more sinned against than sinning.  There was not a word of cant in her petition.  It was full of a simple, unconscious eloquence, a higher feeling than I dare try to define.  And when it was over she had won their love and confidence so that they clung to her hands and kissed them and wet them with their tears.  She came and spoke to us presently, in the same sweet manner that had charmed us the night before’ there was no change in it We offered to walk home with her, but she said Trumbull was coming at twelve.

‘So that is “The Little Mother” of whom I have heard so often,’ said McClingan, as we came away.

‘What do you think of her?’ I enquired.

‘Wonderful woman!’ he said.  ’I never heard such a voice.  It gives me visions.  Every other is as the crackling of thorns under a pot.’

I came back to the office and went into Mr Greeley’s room to bid him goodbye.  He stood by the gas jet, in a fine new suit of clothes, reading a paper, while a boy was blacking one of his boots.  I sat down, awaiting a more favourable moment.  A very young man had come into the room and stood timidly holding his hat.