Service Is Held In A Long, Large Hall, At The Rear End Of Which Is A
Smaller Room That Can Be Made A Part Of The Hall By Folding Back Large
Doors.
We were just inside this small room and the doors were opened
wide.
On a long bench sat the four singers, two each side of a very
unhappy woman, and back of the bench in a half circle were the six
musicians. Those musicians depended entirely upon me to indicate to
them when to play and the vocalists when to sing, therefore certain
signals had been arranged so that there would be no mistake or
confusion. There I sat, on a hot summer morning, almost surrounded by
expert musicians who were conscious of my every movement, and then,
those men were soldiers accustomed to military precision, and the fear
of making a mistake and leading them wrong was agonizing. At the
farther end of the hall the Rev. Mr. Clark was standing, reading along
in an easy, self-assured way that was positively irritating. And
again, there was the congregation, each one on the alert, ready to
criticise, probably condemn, the unheard-of innovation! Every man,
woman, and child was at church that morning, too - many from curiosity,
I expect - and every time we sang one half of them turned around and
stared at us.
During the reading of the service I could not change my position, turn
my head, or brush the flies that got upon my face, without those six
hands back of me pouncing down for their instruments.
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