house of worship. Surprise, excitement, conflict was written on their faces. They took seats in one side section with Elder Burbeck and Miss Nelson, or upon the other side with Miss Armstrong; and then, between fierce looks across the abyss of chair-backs at the "disturbing element,"—the other side in a church quarrel is always that,—they bent a curious watchful eye on Hampstead.
At first the notes of the organ had notified those in the immediate neighborhood that the house of God was no longer nailed up. Members of each party, fearful that the other might gain an advantage, began at once to spread the news in person and by telephone, so that now all over Encina women were struggling with hooks and eyes and curling irons, and men were abandoning Sunday papers and slippers on shady porches, shaving, dressing, and rushing in hot haste to the battle line.
When the children filed out, the opposing groups of adults remained buzzing among themselves like angry hornets, but with no more communication between the two ranks than bitter looks afforded.
John, extremely desirous of getting well out of the zone of hostilities, was actually afraid to leave these belligerent Christians alone together. He thought they might break into pitched battle; the women might pull hair, the men swing chairs upon each other's heads. His fears were abruptly heightened by a series of violent bumps on the steps outside, followed by a trundling sound in the vestibule as if a cannon were being unlimbered. Instantly, too, every face in the little chapel turned at the ominous sounds, but John was puzzled to observe that the expression of even the bitterest was softened at the prospect.
This was explained in part when there appeared through the swinging inner doors not the muzzle of a fieldpiece, but a lady in a wheel chair, who, though her dark hair had begun to silver, was dressed in youthful white and had
