home; but now, hurry forward, or we shall be too late to see the
House open."

"Just as if there was a house in all Washington that wouldn't open for
us if we chose to knock or ring," I thought to myself, but said nothing,
for Dempster was walking off like a steam-engine, and I followed down
one long hall, and up another--all paved with bright-colored
stones--till it seemed as if I were walking over a rock carpet.

XLVI.

WAS IT A MEETING-HOUSE?

Dear sisters:--At last we came to some wide marble stairs, with a twist
in the middle, and they led us into another long hall with a stone
carpet, out of which some doors covered with cloth were opening and
shutting all the time for folks to go through.

Cousin Dempster swung one open for me, and I went into what looked like
a meeting-house gallery, with long seats a-running all around it,
cushioned off with red velvet, or something. Right over what seemed to
be the pulpit, was a square gallery by itself, which I took for the
singers' seats, but it was full of men--not a female among them--and
they all seemed busy as bees laying out their music for use.

Cousin E. E. was sitting near this gallery. She beckoned to me, so I
went in. I sat down by her and whispered:

"I didn't know we were coming to a meeting. Dempster never said a word
about it."

"Hush!" says she. "The chaplain is going to pray."

I did hush, and saw the congregation come in and walk down the aisles
and take their seats. Some brought books that seemed like Bibles under
their arms; and all of them took off their hats, as was proper.

One thing struck me as peculiar: no ladies came into any place but the
galleries, and up there they whispered and laughed in a way that made my
blood run cold.

By and by a man came in, walked down the broad aisle, and went up into
the pulpit.

Two or three men were sitting in the deacons' seat,--which ran along
below the pulpit, and they began to whisper together--a thing I didn't
like in the deacons of a church.

The minister put his hands together beautifully. The congregation stood
up, as good Presbyterians ought to do, and I stood up too, with my arms
folded, and bending my head a little, while a solemn prayerfulness crept
over me; but the next minute I dropped both arms and opened both eyes
wide.

The minister was coming down the pulpit stairs. The congregation sat
down. The deacons each took up a pen--so did the singers, who hadn't
sung a note yet.