It was a fine sermon. Johannes and his aunt both listened attentively. The precentor looked pleased, and the saintly Koos nodded repeatedly. Neeltje, alone, slept; but, as everybody knew, that was because of her nervous trouble.
The entire congregation joined spiritedly in the singing, and the dominie sat down visibly self-satisfied.
Once, Johannes looked around, and, close by the door, athwart the chancel in the shadow, beheld, supported by a slender hand, a bowed head with dark hair!
He knew the hand well, and recognized instantly that dark-haired man. Again and again he felt constrained to look in that direction. The figure remained sitting, motionless, and in a bowed posture.
But when the singing came to an end, and the dominie deliberately made ready to continue his sermon.... Surely, the dark head was lifted up! Markus regarded the faces about him for an instant, with a sorrowful look, and then he stood erect.
Johannes' heart began to thump. "Was he going away? What was he going to do? Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"
But Markus, taking advantage of that pause wherein the people in a congregation are wont to cough, to make use of their handkerchiefs, and to compose themselves again for listening, began speaking in his gentle, musical voice:
"My friends, excuse me for addressing you unbidden, but you know that it is always permitted to bear witness of the Father, if one can do so truthfully."
In perplexity, the congregation looked from the speaker to Dominie Kraalboom. The precentor, also, directed his frightened eyes to the chancel up behind him, as if expecting from that quarter deliverance from this extraordinary difficulty.
Dominie Kraalboom grew very red, and, speaking in his most impressive tones—rolling his r's, for he was really angry—he said: "I beseech you not to disturb the order of this church."