Dear little Miss Pimpernell, our vicar's maiden sister and good right hand, presided, also, to preserve order and set an example for industrious souls to follow, just as she had been in the habit of presiding as far back as I could recollect.
She was not there merely as a chaperon.

Oh no! If Lady Dasher, sitting on an upturned form in a corner, like a very melancholy statue of Patience, was not sufficient to prevent the prudent proprieties from being outraged, there was, also, the "model of all the virtues" present--Miss Spight--a lady of a certain age, who, believing, as the kindly beings of her order do, that there was too large a flow of the milk of human kindness current in the world, deemed it her mission to temper this dispensation by the admixture of as much vitriol and vinegar as in her lay: she succeeded pretty well, too, for that matter, in her practice and belief.
Little Miss Pimpernell was quite a different sort of body altogether to Miss Spight.

Every one who knew her, or ever saw her kindly face, loved her and venerated her.
She was the very impersonification of good-nature, good-will, and good action.

Did any misfortune chance to befall some one with whom she was acquainted, or any casual stranger with whom she might be brought in contact, there was none of that "I told you so" spirit of philosophy about _her_.
No; she tried to do her best for the sufferer as well as she was able; and would not be contented until she was absolutely satisfied that matters had somewhat mended.
Young and old, rich and poor, alike considered her as one of their best friends--as indeed she was--a good Samaritan to whom they might always confide their griefs and ailments, their sufferings and privations, with the assurance that they would certainly meet with a kindly sympathy and a word of comfort, in addition to as much practical assistance in their adversity and physical consolation in their need as "little" Miss Pimpernell--that was the fond title she was always known by--could compass or give.
The worst of it was, that she was in such general request, that we had to make up our minds to lose her sometimes.
Of course it was a selfish consideration, but we missed her and grumbled at her visits and absences sadly; for, when she was away, everything appeared to go wrong in the parish.

Still none, knowing the gratification that her ministrations gave her, would have grudged her their indulgence.
She was never so happy as when she was helping somebody; and, of course, people took advantage of her weakness, and were merciless in their calls upon her time.
Whenever the most distant cousin or stray relative happened to be ill-- or about to move into a new house, or be married, or increase the population in defiance of Malthus, or depart from the pomps and vanities of this wicked world--as sure as possible would Miss Pimpernell be sent for post haste.