out their pipes against the tips of their shoes and sauntered in through
the wide church-door.

The incense still hung about the aisles and the sun sifted its golden
dust through the stained-glass windows right across the church. The
congregation stood crowded and crammed together behind their chairs,
looking at the gilt of the flowers and at the great mountain of votive
candles that were burning before the altar. The organ had all its pipes
wide open; and music streamed forth in great gusts that resounded in the
street outside. The priest sang and rough men's voices chanted the
responses with the full power of their throats. And the high mass
proceeded slowly with its pomp of movement and song. The congregation
prayed from their books or, overcome by the heat, sat yawning or gazing
at the incense-wreaths or started nodding on their chairs. The saints
stood stock-still, smiling from their pedestals and proud in their high
day finery. When the singing ceased, one heard through the dreamy murmur
of the organ the spluttering of the burning candles and the clatter on
the brass dish of the sacristan making the collection. The priest once
more mounted the pulpit and, with the same gestures and action, delivered
the same admonitions as earlier in the morning. Again the people sat
listening and weeping; others slept. More organ-music and singing and
praying and the mass came to an end and the priest turned to the
congregation and gave the blessing. They streamed out of church in a
thick crowd and stood in the road again to see the youngsters pass. Then
all of them made their several ways to the taverns. The
first-communicants had to call on aunts and cousins and friends; and the
poorer children went to show their clothes and asked for pennies.

Horieneke and father and the brothers went straight home to await the
visitors. Before they reached the door, they smelt the butter burning in