The pew-opener sedulously closes the great door after every fresh entrance.
I kneel simmering through the Litany.

Never before did it seem so long! Never did the chanted, "We beseech Thee to hear us, good Lord!" appear so endlessly numerous.
Under cover of my arched hands, shading my eyes, I peep at one after another of the family groups.

Most of them are behind me indeed, but there are still a good many that I can get a view of sideways.

Among these, the one that oftenest engages my notice is a small white woman, evidently a lady--and, at the moment I first catch sight of her, with closed eyes and drawn-in nostrils, inhaling smelling-salts, as if to her, too, church was up-hill work this morning--in a little seat by herself.

At the other pews one glance a piece satisfies me, but, having looked at _her_ once, I look again.