It seemed to her that if she stayed away, Lois might be worse.

Unconsciously her church attendance became a species of spell, or propitiation to a terrifying deity, and the wild instinct of the African awoke in the New England woman.
When she reached the church the bell had stopped ringing, and the vestry windows were parallelograms of yellow light; the meeting was in the vestry.
Mrs.Field entered, and took a seat well toward the front.

The room was half filled with people, and the mass of them were elderly and middle-aged women.

There were rows of their homely, faded, and strong-lined faces set in sober bonnets, a sprinkling of solemn old men, a few bright-ribboned girls, and in the background a settee or two of smart young fellows.

Right in front of Mrs.Field sat a pretty girl with roses in her hat.