the best way to put us both at our
ease. But it had been more than two weeks since I had done any work, and
I could not remember what it was that I had been dictating, or
endeavoring to dictate, to the lady with the malarial husband. I
therefore thought it well to begin at a fresh point, and to leave the
gap to be filled up afterward. I felt quite sure, when last at work, I
had been treating of the south of France, and had certainly not reached
Marseilles. I therefore decided to take a header for Marseilles, and
into Marseilles I plunged.

As soon as I began to speak the nun began to write, and having at last
got her at work I felt anxious to keep her at it, and went steadily on
through the lively seaport; touching upon one point after another as
fast as I thought of them, and without regard to their proper sequence.
But although I sometimes skipped from one end of the city to the other,
and from history to street scenes, I dictated steadily, and the nun
wrote steadily. She worked rapidly, and apparently heard and understood
every word I said, for she asked no questions and did not hesitate. I am
sure I never before dictated so continuously. I had been in the habit of
stopping a good deal to think, not only about my work, but about other
things, but now I did not wish to stop.

This amanuensis was very different from any other I had had. The others
worked to make money for themselves, or to please me, or because they
liked it. This one worked from principle. The money which I paid for her
labor did not become her money. It was paid to the House of Martha. She
sat there and wrote to promote the principles upon which the House of
Martha was founded. In fact, so far as I was concerned, she was nothing
more than a principle.

Now, to interfere with the working of a principle is not the right thing
to do, and therefore I felt impelled to keep on dictating, which I did
until the hall door of the secretary's room was unlocked and the
sub-mother walked in. She came forward and said a few words to the nun,
who stopped writing and wiped her pen. The other then turned to me, and
in a low voice asked if the work of the sister was satisfactory. I
advanced to the grating, and answered that I was perfectly satisfied,
and was about to make some remarks, which I hoped would lead to a
conversation, when the sub-mother--whose name I subsequently learned was
Sister Sarah--made a little bow, and, saying if that were the case they
would r