He determined to interrupt the purling stream.

“Mrs. Spruce,” he began,—­then hesitated, as she turned briskly towards him, looking like a human clothes-prop, with both fat arms extended in order to keep well away from contact with the floor a gauzy robe sparkling all over with tiny crystalline drops, which, catching the sunbeams, flashed like little points of flame.

“Beggin’ your pardon, Passon, did you speak?”

“Yes.  I think you should not let anything lie about, as, for example,—­those—­” and he pointed to the objectionable shoes with an odd sense of discomfiture; “They appear to be of a delicate colour and might easily get soiled.”

Mrs. Spruce peered round over the sparkling substance she held, looking like a very ancient and red-faced cherub peeping over the rim of a moonlit cloud.

“Well, I never!” she exclaimed; “What a hi you have, Passon!  What a hi!  Now them shoes missed me altogether!  They must have dropped out of some of the dresses we’ve been unfoldin’, for the packin’s quite reckless-like, and ain’t never been done by no trained maid.  All hustled-bustled like into the boxes anyhow, as if the person what had done it was in a mortal temper or hurry.  Lord!  Don’t I know how people crams things in when they’s in a rage!  Ah!  Wait till I get rid of all these diamants,” and she waddled to the deep oak wardrobe, which stood open, and carefully hung the glittering garment up by its two sleeveholes on two pegs,—­then turned round with a sigh.  “It’s orful what the world’s coming to, Passon Walden,- -orful!  Fancy diamants all sewed on to a gown!  I wouldn’t let my Kitty in ’ere for any amount of money!  She’d be that restless and worritin’ and wantin’ the like things for ’erself, and the mortal mischief it would be, there’s no knowin’!  Why, the first ‘commercial’ as come round ’ere with ’is pack and ’is lies, would get her runnin’ off with ‘im!  Ah!  That’s jes’ where leddies makes such work for Satan’s hands to do; they never thinks of the envy and jealousy and spite as eats away the ’arts of poor gels what sees all these fine things, and ain’t got no chance for to have them for theirselves!” Here, sidling along the floor, she picked up the pink shoes to which Walden had called her attention, first one and then the other.  “Well!  Call them shoes!  My Kitty couldn’t get her ’and into ’em!  And as for a foot fittin’ in!  What a foot!  It can’t be much bigger’n a baby’s.  Well, well, what a pair o’ shoes!”

She stood looking at them, a fat smile on her face, and Walden moved uneasily from the threshold.

“I’ll leave you now, Mrs. Spruce,” he said; “You have plenty to do, and I’m in the way here.”

“Well, now, Passon, that do beat me!” said Mrs. Spruce plaintively; “I thought you was a-goin’ to help us!”

“Help you?  I?” and Walden laughed aloud; “My dear woman, do you think I can unpack and unfold ladies’ dresses?  Of all the many incongruous uses a clergyman was ever put to, wouldn’t that be the most impossible?”