church and when the local preacher failed to
appear, which contingency sometimes arose in the season of bad roads,
the duty of preaching a sermon generally devolved upon him. He was a
pious little man, bent and thin, with a marked Cockney accent. He had
mild pale blue eyes and a simple, almost seraphic smile which scarcely
ever left his countenance and which was the index to his character.
His wife was small and pious like himself, and had the same accent and
the same benevolent expression. They always sat close together on the
front seat like a pair of shy children, he in his rough, loose
homespun, she in her grey wincey, a neatly folded Paisley shawl and a
brown bonnet with a pink feather--this last ornament being the pride of
Silas' heart and the one bit of finery his wife permitted herself.
They shared one hymn book and Bible, no matter how many there might be
scattered around them, and both sang in a high ecstatic key, a measure
behind the choir. They swayed to and fro, quite carried away by the
music, and as Silas stood with his head thrown back and his eyes shut,
and his wife kept her eyes modestly upon her book, they very often
collided, to the great detriment of the singing and the disturbing of
the pink feather. But the only sign their frequent collisions called
forth was a smile of perfect accord and redoubled energy in the singing
and swaying.

Silas was modest and never shouldered the task of leading the service
until all hope of the preacher's appearing had been given up. On such
occasions the congregation would assemble and sit quietly expectant;
even the back row, who waited at the church shed until they were in
sufficient numbers to brave an entry into the church, having flopped
noisily into their places. The choir would whisper and the organist
nervously turn over the leaves of the hymn book. Then the fathers of
the church would confer, look through the window or tip-toe to the
door, confer again, and once more gaze anxiously in the direction from
which the preacher was expected to appear.

At this point there would arise from the Todd pew such a fluttering and
twittering as can be heard in the nest when the mother-bird is
encouraging her little ones to fly. Mrs. Todd, acting as monitor,
would give Silas many pushes and nudges which he modestly resisted,
until her efforts were augmented by those of his brother officials,
when, yielding at last to their importunities, he would slowly rise and