"Just as if there was a house in all Washington that wouldn't open for us if we chose to knock or ring," I thought to myself, but said nothing, for Dempster was walking off like a steam-engine, and I followed down one long hall, and up another—all paved with bright-colored stones—till it seemed as if I were walking over a rock carpet.
XLVI.
WAS IT A MEETING-HOUSE?
DEAR SISTERS:—At last we came to some wide marble stairs, with a twist in the middle, and they led us into another long hall with a stone carpet, out of which some doors covered with cloth were opening and shutting all the time for folks to go through.
Cousin Dempster swung one open for me, and I went into what looked like a meeting-house gallery, with long seats a-running all around it, cushioned off with red velvet, or something. Right over what seemed to be the pulpit, was a square gallery by itself, which I took for the singers' seats, but it was full of men—not a female among them—and they all seemed busy as bees laying out their music for use.
Cousin E. E. was sitting near this gallery. She beckoned to me, so I went in. I sat down by her and whispered:
"I didn't know we were coming to a meeting. Dempster never said a word about it."
"Hush!" says she. "The chaplain is going to pray."
I did hush, and saw the congregation come in and walk down the aisles and take their seats. Some brought books that seemed like Bibles under their arms; and all of them took off their hats, as was proper.