"Oh, Maria, it's so musty."
"Fiddle dumpling. Hunt is certainly faithless. Maria, do you think you could squeeze yourself through an open window?"
"I don't, Martha," replied Miss Peters; "and, what's more, I won't. I have got my best brown silk on. Where am I to get another silk? Ah," with a sigh of infinite relief, "here is Hunt."
The baker, who was red in the face, and had a somewhat nervous manner, now appeared. He came by a sidewalk which led directly from the vestry.
"I beg your pardon, ladies," he apologized; "I overslept myself, and that's a fact. Now the floors are open—find your places, ladies."
Hunt vanished, and Mrs. Butler led her party into the sacred edifice. The light was still faint in the old church, and at first the good lady could not see very plainly. When she did, however, she beheld a sight which petrified her. As she and her party hurried up one aisle, she perceived Mrs. Bell and her party rushing up the other. There was not a moment to lose. It is disgraceful to have to relate it, but there was almost a scuffle in the church. In short, the two generals met opposite the front pews. There was a scramble for seats. The Beatricites and the Hartites got mixed up in the most confusing manner, and finally Mrs. Butler and Mrs. Bell found themselves side by side and crushed very close together in a small space.
Some awful hours followed. Mrs. Butler deliberately placed her back to Mrs. Bell. Mrs. Bell talked at Mrs. Butler in a loud whisper to a neighbor at the other side. Poor Miss Peters fanned herself violently. Mrs. Morris's breathing became so oppressed that it was audible; and in short, all these good ladies who had got up hours before their rightful time were as uncomfortable and cross as they well could be. But the longest time passes at last. From six to seven went by, from seven to eight, from eight again to nine. The waiting was awful. By degrees, without quite knowing it, Mrs. Bell was forced to lean against Mrs. Butler for support. By half-past nine she ventured to say to her neighbor:
"This waiting is intolerable."
"Vile," snapped Mrs. Butler, in response.
By ten o'clock the opposing generals were sharing the same footstool. By a quarter-past ten they were both nodding.