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182 husband," whispered Mrs. Robinson. "She 's awful tanned up, ain't she? If you 're goin' to save souls seems like you hev' to part with your complexion. Eudoxy Morton ain't come yet; I hope to the land she will, or Mis' Deacon Milliken 'll pitch the tunes where we can't reach 'em with a ladder; can't you pitch, afore she gits her breath and clears her throat?"

Mrs. Burch was a slim, frail little woman with dark hair, a broad low forehead, and patient mouth. She was dressed in a well-worn black silk, and looked so tired that Rebecca's heart went out to her.

"They 're poor as Job's turkey," whispered Mrs. Robinson; "but if you give 'em anything they 'd turn right round and give it to the heathen. His congregation up to Parsonsfield clubbed together and give him that gold watch he carries; I s'pose he 'd 'a' handed that over too, only heathens always tell time by the sun 'n' don't need watches. Eudoxy ain't comin'; now for massy's sake, Rebecca, do git ahead of Mis' Deacon Milliken and pitch real low."

The meeting began with prayer and then the Rev. Mr. Burch announced, to the tune of Mendon:—

Church of our God! arise and shine, Bright with the beams of truth divine; Then shall thy radiance stream afar, Wide as the heathen nations are.