We wrestle with the dripping, and rise on stepping-stones--not of our dead selves, but of sheep and oxen--to higher things.
The sole was a direct answer to prayer.

Mrs.Gresley had been enabled to stifle her irritation against this delicate, whimsical, fine lady of a sister-in-law--laced in, too, we must not forget that--who, in Mrs.
Gresley's ideas, knew none of the real difficulties of life, its butcher's bills, its monthly nurses, its constant watchfulness over delicate children, its long, long strain at two ends which won't meet.
We must know but little of our fellow-creatures if the damp sole in the bag appears to us other than the outward and homely sign of an inward and spiritual conquest.
As such Hester saw it, and she kissed Mrs.Gresley and thanked her, and then ran, herself, to the kitchen with the peace offering, and came back with her sister-in-law's down-at-heel in-door shoes.
Mr.Gresley was stabling his bicycle in the hall as she crossed it.

He was generally excessively jocose with his bicycle.

He frequently said, "Whoa, Emma!" to it.

But to-day he, too, was tired, and put Emma away in silence.
When Hester returned to the drawing-room Mrs.Gresley had recovered sufficiently to notice her surroundings.