She had not before been present at this ceremony of family prayers, and to her unaccustomed eyes Mrs. Prymmer, Captain White, and the maid servant Mary seemed to be engaged in a kind of contra-dance, in which they walked to and fro, seizing certain books and certain chairs, and arranging them carefully in certain places.
"Have some books," said Captain White, handing her two, as she sat down in the place indicated by Mrs. Prymmer.
The first one given her was a hymn-book, and Mrs. Prymmer, selecting a trifling and unimportant jingle of religious rhymes, began in her hard voice, and with only slight assistance from Mary and Captain White, to utter a succession of unmelodious sounds. The hymn was not a success, and Derrice was glad when it was over.
The Scripture reading was announced from Jeremiah. Derrice, having never before heard of the weeping prophet, gazed helplessly at her mother-in-law, whose eyes were glued to the ponderous family Bible on the table before her.
Captain White politely found her place, but the prophecy was unintelligible to Derrice, and she fluttered over the leaves of her Bible until she came to the Song of Solomon. Here was something interesting, and in a few minutes she was utterly oblivious of her surroundings until aroused by a gentle tug at her dress from Captain White. They were all on their knees but herself. She hastily slipped down and listened to the words pouring from Mrs. Prymmer's florescent lips.
The good woman was praying for a brace of reprobates,—two beings ordained to everlasting and eternal punishment unless they indulged in a speedy and effectual repentance. Derrice, in mild wonder, followed her, until the startling discovery dawned upon her that she herself was one of the subjects of the petition. She was the stiff-necked sinner, the scorner of grace, the vessel doomed to everlasting wrath. And was it Captain White who was to go down to destruction with her? She cast a glance toward him, and was answered by a reassuring nod.
"She don't often get the chance to hold forth," he whispered, behind his uplifted hand. "Justin usually takes charge."
Derrice felt herself growing angry. How different was the mother from the son! She indignantly got off her knees and sat in her chair, and when the others rose she confronted Mrs. Prymmer with a stormy brow. Only waiting until Mary left the room she exclaimed, "You were talking about me just now—"
"About your immortal soul," said Mrs. Prymmer, pursing up her lips.
"Don't you do it again," said Derrice, wrathfully. "I will not be called by those names. You ought to be ashamed of yourself," and she swept out of the room.