"Blessed be His holy Name!" cried one. "When He comes the world will see
Him Whom they have despised, and His saints they have looked down on,
too, reignin' together in glory. Yes, glory be to Jesus, there'll be a
turnin' of the tables soon."

To Trenholme it seemed that they bandied about the sacred name. He
winced each time.

One woman, with more active intellect than some of the rest, began to
dilate on the signs already in the world which proved the Second Advent
was near. Her tone was not one of exulted feeling, but of calm reason.
Her desire was evidently to strengthen her sisters who might be cast
down. In her view all the ages of the history of the vast human race
were seen in the natural perspective which makes things that are near
loom larger than all that is far. The world, she affirmed, was more evil
than it had ever been. In the Church there was such spiritual death as
never before. The few great revivals there were showed that now the poor
were being bidden from the highways to the marriage feast. And above all
else, it was now proved that the coming of the Lord was nigh, because
bands of the elect everywhere were watching and waiting for the great
event. Her speech was well put forth in the midst of the weary descent.
She did not say more than was needed. If there were drooping hearts
among her friends they were probably cheered.

Then some more emotional talkers took up the exultant strain again. It
was hard for Trenholme not to estimate the inner hearts of all these
women by the words that he heard, and therefore to attribute all the
grace of the midnight hour to the dead.

When they got to the bottom of the hill, the farmer, at the request of