lt inclined, but all
with that earnest seriousness of demeanor which befitted the day and
the task. For task it evidently was to some of them; John Benton, for
example. He stood alone, at the most upright post attainable, his book
at arm's length, and his head moving from side to side, following the
lines, with a little upward toss of it as he reached the end of each,
while from his throat issued most startling tones.

Afterwards, Aunt Sally explained, for she had seen Ninian's amused
survey of her "boy," that:

"John can no more carry a tune than he can fly, and I'd rather hear
him sawin' his boards than tryin' to sing. But he feels it's his duty
to help the others along by singing at it and sort of keepin'
Gabriell' in countenance, seems if. Sweet, ain't it?"

It had been "sweet" in the guest's opinion--the whole of the short
service; conducted with such simple dignity and reverence by the
Madonna-like ranch mistress; the music so well chosen, the few prayers
so feelingly offered, and the brief exhortation read from the words of
a famous divine who had the rare gift of touching men's hearts. And he
so expressed himself, as well as his surprise, over the belated
breakfast which Mrs. Benton served him when the service was over and
the household dispersed.

"Yes, I think it's the nicest thing there is about this dear Sobrante.
There's always been the best sort of inflooence here and that's why I
like my boy, John, to belong. Cass'us, he used to hold the meeting,
and after he died I feared Gabriella wouldn't be equal to it. But
bless your soul! if down she didn't come that first Sunday 'at ever
was, and her not havin' left her bed sence it happened, and sent Wun
Lungy out to have the old mission bell rung, a signal. I'll ever
forget it to my dyin' day, I shan't. Her like a spirit all in white
and a face was both the saddest and the upliftedest ever I see; and
them rough men all crowdin' up to their places, so soft you'd thought
they was barefoot 'stead of heavy shod; and Jessie with her arms round
the two little ones, and her mother pitchin' the tune, same as usual,
and--and--I declare I can't keep the tears back yet, rememberin'.
Before she was done the whole kerboodle of us was sobbin' and cryin'
like a passel of young ones, and there was she, with her broken heart,
as calm and serene as an angel. Angel is what she is, mostly; with
just enough old human natur' in her to keep her from soarin' right
away. Gabriell's