CHAPTER IV.
On the following Sunday, young Mrs.Ware sat alone in the preacher's pew through the morning service, and everybody noted that the roses had been taken from her bonnet.

In the evening she was absent, and after the doxology and benediction several people, under the pretence of solicitude for her health, tried to pump her husband as to the reason.
He answered their inquiries civilly enough, but with brevity: she had stayed at home because she did not feel like coming out--this and nothing more.
The congregation dispersed under a gossip-laden cloud of consciousness that there must be something queer about Sister Ware.

There was a tolerably general agreement, however, that the two sermons of the day had been excellent.

Not even Loren Pierce's railing commentary on the pastor's introduction of an outlandish word like "epitome"-- clearly forbidden by the Discipline's injunction to plain language understood of the people--availed to sap the satisfaction of the majority.
Theron himself comprehended that he had pleased the bulk of his auditors; the knowledge left him curiously hot and cold.

On the one hand, there was joy in the apparent prospect that the congregation would back him up in a stand against the trustees, if worst came to worst.
But, on the other hand, the bonnet episode entered his soul.