tolled, and she passed down the village street with a stiff
steadiness of gait. She felt eager to go to meeting to-night. This
old New England woman, all of whose traditions were purely orthodox,
was all unknowingly a fetich-worshipper in a time of trouble. Ever
since her daughter had been ill, she had had a terrified impulse in
her meeting-going. It seemed to her that if she stayed away, Lois
might be worse. Unconsciously her church attendance became a species
of spell, or propitiation to a terrifying deity, and the wild
instinct of the African awoke in the New England woman.

When she reached the church the bell had stopped ringing, and the
vestry windows were parallelograms of yellow light; the meeting was
in the vestry.

Mrs. Field entered, and took a seat well toward the front. The room
was half filled with people, and the mass of them were elderly and
middle-aged women. There were rows of their homely, faded, and
strong-lined faces set in sober bonnets, a sprinkling of solemn old
men, a few bright-ribboned girls, and in the background a settee or
two of smart young fellows. Right in front of Mrs. Field sat a pretty
girl with roses in her hat. She was about Lois' age, and had been to
school with her.

Mrs. Field, erect and gaunt, with a look of goodness so settled and
pre-eminent in her face that it had almost the effect of a smile, sat
and listened to the minister. He was a young man with boyish
shoulders, and a round face, which he screwed nervously as he talked.
He was vehement, and strung to wiriness with new enthusiasm; he
seemed to toss the doctrines like footballs back and forth before the
eyes of the people.