The only things which gave warmth or colour to the interior as a whole were the cushions and pew curtains.

There were plenty of them, and they were mostly red.
These same curtains added to the sense of isolation, which was already sufficiently attained by the height of the pew walls and their doors and bolts.

I think it was this--and the fact that, as the congregation took no outward part in the prayers except that of listening to them, Polly and I had nothing to do--and we could not even hear the old gentleman who usually "read prayers"-- which led us into the very reprehensible habit of "playing at houses" in Uncle Ascott's gorgeously furnished pew.

Not that we left our too tightly stuffed seats for one moment, but as we sat or stood, unable to see anything beyond the bombazine curtains (which, intervening between us and the distant parson, made our hearing what he said next to impossible), we amused ourselves by mentally "pretending" a good deal of domestic drama, in which the pew represented a house; and we related our respective "plays" to each other afterwards when we went home.
Wrong as it was, we did not intend to be irreverent, though I had the grace to feel slightly shocked when after a cheerfully lighted evening service, at which the claims of a missionary society had been enforced, Polly confided to me, with some triumph in her tone, "I pretended a theatre, and when the man was going round with the box upstairs, I pretended it was oranges in the gallery." I had more than once felt uneasy at our proceedings, and I now told Polly that I thought it was not right, and that we ought to "try to attend." I rather expected her to resent my advice, but she said that she had "sometimes thought it was wrong" herself; and we resolved to behave better for the future, and indeed really did give up our unseasonable game.
Few religious experiences fill one with more shame and self-reproach than the large results from very small efforts in the right direction.
Polly and I prospered in our efforts to "attend." I may say for myself that, child as I was, I began to find a satisfaction and pleasure in going to church, though the place was hideous, the ritual dreary, and the minister mumbling.

When by chance there was a nice hymn, such as, "Glory to Thee," or "O GOD, our help in ages past," we were quite happy.