chair. Public sentiment in Edgewood was swayed by the Dorcas Society,
but Mrs. Burbank swayed the Dorcases themselves as the wind sways the
wheat.




CHAPTER II


The old Meeting House wore an animated aspect when the eventful Friday
came, a cold, brilliant, sparkling December day, with good sleighing, and
with energy in every breath that swept over the dazzling snowfields. The
sexton had built a fire in the furnace on the way to his morning work--a
fire so economically contrived that it would last exactly the four or
five necessary hours, and not a second more. At eleven o'clock all the
pillars of the society had assembled, having finished their own household
work and laid out on their respective kitchen tables comfortable
luncheons for the men of the family, if they were fortunate enough to
number any among their luxuries. Water was heated upon oil-stoves set
about here and there, and there was a brave array of scrubbing-brushes,
cloths, soap, and even sand and soda, for it had been decided and
manifested-by-the-usual-sign-and-no-contrary-minded-and-it-was-a-vote
that the dirt was to come off, whether the paint came with it or not.
Each of the fifteen women present selected a block of seats, preferably
one in which her own was situated, and all fell busily to work.

"There is nobody here to clean the right-wing pews," said Nancy
Wentworth, "so I will take those for my share."