ience, Elvira, curious to see the strangers, entered.

Elvira raised a coquettish finger and told Smith that he was a very
naughty man. This was a new freak in her conduct toward the prophet.
Light and frivolous as she had become, the title of prophetess, coveted
among Mormon women, had been conferred upon her because some strange
power of divination governed her freaks.

"A very naughty man." With her delicate prettiness, decked in what
gewgaws she could afford, Elvira stood shaking her forefinger. "You
don't know why? Oh, fie! you know very well, naughty, naughty creature."

Smith had the air of some unwieldy animal trying to adapt itself to the
unexpected gambols of a light one. The first supposition was that Elvira
had in some way learnt the object of his mission, so he began to declare
it with a reproachful look at Susannah. "Our sister Halsey," he said,
"does not wish you to wear jewels and beautiful clothes, and yet it is
said in the Scripture that the clothing of ladies should be even of
wrought gold."

"Naughty creature," she cried, "don't quote the Scriptures to me. I am
not the lady you are thinking about. I am not the lady that you come
here to see."

So intent they all were upon her and her affairs that this statement was
somewhat puzzling. The only sign that Smith gave that he gathered any
sense out of the vivacious nonsense she was pleased to talk was that he
precipitated his explanation.

The brother by his side was very rich; it had been foretold him in a
vision of the night that when he had professed the Mormon faith a pretty
wife would be his reward. Smith had had it borne in upon his mind that
Elvira was the lady designed by the vision. "For," said he unctuously;
"the Holy Scripture saith that the solitary shall be set in families."

Elvira laughed. "How very amusing," she cried. "And into what family
shall our sister Susannah be set?"

Smith frowned. "Our sister Susannah," he said, "is not solitary, but is
surrounded by her spiritual children, to whom she imparts her own
learning and goodness, to the great benefit of the Church; and I cannot
but think, Sister Elvira"--the severity in his voice was growing--"that
you are a great care to her, for she toils hard to give you even such
poor raiment as you are now wearing, not wishing to accept of the bounty
of the Church, while she would be an example of industry to others."

The hard truth of this statement, combined with the commanding voice a