'em, and more beans with fish balls next mornin'. That is, if you want
to be orthodox."

The service began at eleven o'clock. At half past ten the sexton,
old Mr. Jubal Knowles, rang the "first bell," a clanging five-minute
reminder. Twenty minutes later he began on the second and final call.
Mr. Ellery was ready--and nervous--before the first bell had finished
ringing. But Keziah, entering the sitting room dressed in black alpaca
and carrying the hymn book with her name in gilt letters on the cover,
forbade his leaving the parsonage thus early.

"I shall go pretty soon," she said, "but you mustn't. The minister ain't
expected until the last bell's 'most done. Parson Langley used to wait
until the Winslows went in. Gaius Winslow is a widower man who lives up
to the west end of the town and he's got nine children, all boys. You'll
know 'em because they always drive down to meetin' in one carryall with
a white horse. Gaius is as punctual as a boardin'-house dinner. The
old parson used to wait until the last Winslow had toddled up the
meetin'-house steps and then he'd come out of this side door with
his sermon in his hand. It's a pretty good rule to remember and saves
watchin' the clock. Besides, it's what we've been used to, and that goes
a good ways with some folks. Good-by, Mr. Ellery. You'll see me in the
third pew from the back, on the right side, wishin' you luck just as
hard as I can."

So, as in couples or family groups, afoot or in all sorts of vehicles,
the members of Trumet's Regular society came to the church to hear their
new minister, that functionary peeped under the parlor window shade of
the parsonage and waited, fidgetting and apprehensive, for the
Winslows. They arrived at last, and were not hard to recognize, for ten