The dark woods rang with the sweet chorus, and the long line of fantastic lanterns sent weird shadows bobbing up in their wake.
The bare, unpainted little church had just been lighted when they arrived, and a strong smell of coal-oil and smoking wicks greeted them.
"It's too bad we are so early," said Miss Allison.

"Sylvia would have preferred us to come in with grand effect at the last moment, but I'm too tired to wait for the bridal party.

Let's put our lanterns in the vestibule and go in and find seats." A pompous mulatto man in white cotton gloves and with a cluster of tuberoses in his buttonhole ushered the party down the aisle to the seats of honor reserved for the white folks.

There were seventeen in the party, too many to sit comfortably on the two benches, so a chair was brought for Miss Allison.

After the grown people were seated, each of the little girls managed to squeeze in at the end of the seats nearest the aisle.