The sexton had built
a fire in the furnace on the way to his morning work--a fire so economically
contrived that it would last exactly the four or five necessary hours, and not
a second more. At eleven o'clock all the pillars of the society had assembled,
having finished their own household work and laid out on their respective
kitchen tables comfortable luncheons for the men of the family, if they were
fortunate enough to number any among their luxuries. Water was heated upon
oil-stoves set about here and there, and there was a brave array of
scrubbing-brushes, cloths, soap, and even sand and soda, for it had been
decided and manifested-by-the-usual-sign-and-no-contrary-minded-and-it-was-
-a-vote that the dirt was to come off, whether the paint came with it or not.
Each of the fifteen women present selected a block of seats, preferably one in
which her own was situated, and all fell busily to work.
"There is nobody here to clean the right-wing pews," said Nancy Wentworth, "so
I will take those for my share."
"You're not making a very wise choice, Nancy," and the minister's wife smiled
as she spoke. "The infant class of the Sunday-School sits there, you know, and
I expect the paint has had extra wear and tear.
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