Come-Outers goin' to holler their lungs loose at prayer meetin'.He, he! You ain't turned Come-Outer, have you, Mr. Ellery? You've headedright for the chapel."
Ellery's reply was hurried and a bit confused. He said good night andwent on.
"Laviny," whispered the shocked Kyan, "do you think that wasa--er--polite thing to say to a parson? That about his turnin'Come-Outer? He didn't make much answer, seemed to me. You don't think hewas mad, do ye?"
"I don't care if he was," snorted Miss Pepper. "He could tell a bodywhere he was goin' then. Nobody can snub me, minister or not. I thinkhe's kind of stuck-up, if you want to know, and if he is, he'll get tookdown in a hurry. Come along, don't stand there with your mouth open likea flytrap. I'd like to know what he was up to. I've a precious good mindto follow him; would if 'twa'n't so much trouble."
She didn't. Yet, if she had, she would have deemed the trouble worthwhile. For John Ellery stumbled on through the mist till he reached the"Corners" where the store was located and the roads forked. There, heturned to the right, into the way called locally "Hammond's Turn-off."A short distance down the "Turn-off" stood a small, brown-shingledbuilding, its windows alight. Opposite its door, on the other side ofthe road, grew a spreading hornbeam tree surrounded by a cluster ofswamp blackberry bushes. In the black shadow of the hornbeam Mr. Ellerystood still. He was debating in his mind a question: should he or shouldhe not enter that building?
As he stood there, groups of people emerged from the fog and darknessand passed in at the door. Some of them he had seen during his fortnightin Trumet. Others were strangers to him. A lantern danced and wabbled upthe "Turn-off" from the direction of the bay shore and the packet wharf.It drew near, and he saw that it was carried by an old man with longwhite hair and chin beard, who walked with a slight limp. Beside him wasa thin woman wearing a black poke bonnet and a shawl. In the rear ofthe pair came another woman, a young woman, judging by the way she wasdressed and her lithe, vigorous step. The trio halted on the platform ofthe building. The old man blew out the lantern. Then he threw the dooropen and a stream of yellow light poured over the group.
The young woman was Grace Van Horne. The minister recognized her atonce. Undoubtedly, the old man with the limp was her guardian, CaptainEben Hammond, who, by common report, had spoken of him, Ellery, as a"hired priest."
The door closed. A few moments thereafter the sound of a squeakymelodeon came from within the building. It wailed and quavered andgroaned. Then, with a suddenness that was startling, came the firstverse of a hymn, sung with tremendous enthusiasm:
"Oh, who shall answer when the Lord shall call His ransomed sinners home?"
The hallelujah chorus was still ringing when the watcher across thestreet stepped out from the shadow of the hornbeam. Without a pause hestrode over to the platform. Another moment and the door had shut behindhim.
The minister of the Trumet Regular church had entered the Come-Outerchapel to attend a Come-Outer prayer meeting!
CHAPTER V
IN WHICH THE PARSON CRUISES IN STRANGE WATERS
The Come-Outer chapel was as bare inside, almost, as it was without.Bare wooden walls, a beamed ceiling, a raised platform at one end witha table and chairs and the melodeon upon it, rows of wooden settees forthe congregation--that was all. As the minister entered, the worshiperswere standing up to sing. Three or four sputtering oil lamps but dimlyillumined the place and made recognition uncertain.
The second verse of the hymn was just beginning as Ellery came in. Mostof the forty or more grown people in the chapel were too busy wrestlingwith the tune to turn and look at him. A child here and there in theback row twisted a curious neck but twisted back again as parentalfingers tugged at its ear. The minister tiptoed to a dark corner andtook his stand in front of a vacant settee.
The man whom Ellery had decided must be Captain Eben Hammond wasstanding on the low platform beside the table. A quaint figure,patriarchal with its flowing white hair and beard, puritanical with itsset, smooth-shaven lips and tufted brows. Captain Eben held an open hymnbook back in one hand and beat time with the other. He wore brass-bowedspectacles well down toward the tip of his nose. Swinging a heavy,stubby finger and singing in a high, quavering voice of no particularregister, he led off the third verse:
"Oh, who shall weep when the roll is called And who shall shout for joy?"
The melodeon and the hymn book were in accord as to the tune, butCaptain Eben and the various members of the congregation seemed to havea desire to improvise. They sang with spirit, however, and the rhythmicpat of feet grew louder and louder. Here and there men and women wereswaying and rocking their bodies in time to the music. The chorus foreach verse was louder than the one preceding it.
Another hymn was given out and sung. And another and still another. Thewindows rattled. The patting grew to a steady "thump! thump!" Momentarypauses between lines were punctuated by hallelujahs and amens. Standingdirectly in front of the minister was a six-foot, raw-boned individualwhose clothes smelled strongly of fish, and whose hands, each swungat the end of an exposed five inches of hairy red wrist, looked likeflippers. At the end of the third hymn this personage sprang straight upinto the air, cracked the heels of a pair of red cowhide boots together,and whooped: "Glory be! Send the PAOWER!" in a voice like the screechof a northeast gale. Mr. Ellery, whom this gymnastic feat had taken bysurprise, jumped in sympathy, although not as high.
The singing over, the worshipers sat down. Captain Eben took afigured handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead. The thin,nearsighted young woman who had been humped over the keyboard of themelodeon, straightened up. The worshipers relaxed a little and began tolook about.
Then the captain adjusted his spectacles and opened a Bible, which hetook from the table beside him. Clearing his throat, he announced thathe would read from the Word, tenth chapter of Jeremiah:
"'Thus saith the Lord. Learn not the way of the heathen, and be notdismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them.
"'For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out ofthe forest, the work of the hands of the workmen, with the ax.'"
He read in a measured singsong, stopping occasionally to hold the bookin a better light and peering at the fine print through his spectacles.And as he read, there was a sudden rustle on one of the back benches. Achild had turned, stared, and pulled at its mother's sleeve. The rustlegrew and spread.
Captain Eben drawled on to the twentieth verse:
"'My tabernacle is spoiled and all my cords are broken: my children aregone forth from me, and they are not: there is none to stretch forth mytent any more, and to set up my curtains!
"'For the pastors are become brutish and have not sought the Lord:therefore they shall not prosper, and--'"
"A-MEN!"
The shout came from the second bench from the front, where EzekielBassett, clam digger and fervent religionist, was always to be found onmeeting nights. Ezekiel was the father of Susannah B. Bassett, "SukeyB." for short, who played the melodeon. He had been, by successiveseizures, a Seventh Day Baptist, a Second Adventist, a Millerite, aRegular, and was now the most energetic of Come-Outers. Later he was tobecome a Spiritualist and preside at table-tipping seances.
Ezekiel's amen was so sudden and emphatic that it startled the readerinto looking up. Instead of the faces of his congregation, he foundhimself treated to a view of their back hair. Nearly every headwas turned toward the rear corner of the room, there was a buzz ofwhispering and, in front, many men and women were standing up to look.Captain Eben was scandalized.
"Well!" he exclaimed. "Is this a prayer meetin' or--or--what? Brethrenand sisters, I must say--"
Ezekiel Bassett stepped forward and whispered in his ear. Thecaptain's expression of righteous indignation changed to one of blankastonishment. He, too, gazed at the dark corner. Then his lips tightenedand he rapped smartly on the table.
"Brethren and sisters," he thundered, in the voice which, of
old, hadenforced obedience aboard his coasting schooner, "remember this is thehouse of the Lord. Be reverent!"
He waited until every eye had swung about to meet his. Then he regardedhis abashed but excited hearers with a steady and prolonged stare.
"My friends," he said, "let us bow in prayer."
John Ellery could have repeated that prayer, almost word for word, yearsafter that night. The captain prayed for the few here gathered together:Let them be steadfast. Let them be constant in the way. The path theywere treading might be narrow and beset with thorns, but it was the pathleading to glory.
"Scoffers may sneer," he declared, his voice rising; "they may make amock of us, they may even come into Thy presence to laugh at
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