"Don't seem to have hindered your nourishment this morning, Carsen. I'll go into the politics of it later. Sit down by the door and think over your arguments till I come back."
"What good is arguments to me? In Miquelon champagne's eighteen dollars a case and—" The skipper lurched into his seat as an organ-prelude silenced him.
"Our new organ," said the official proudly to Cheyne. "Cost us four thousand dollars, too. We'll have to get back to high-license next year to pay for it. I wasn't going to let the ministers have all the religion at their convention. Those are some of our orphans standing up to sing. My wife taught 'em. See you again later, Mr. Cheyne. I'm wanted on the platform."
High, clear, and true, children's voices bore down the last noise of those settling into their places.
"O all ye Works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord: praise him and magnify him for ever!"
The women throughout the hall leaned forward to look as the reiterated cadences filled the air. Mrs. Cheyne, with some others, began to breathe short; she had hardly imagined there were so many widows in the world; and instinctively searched for Harvey. He had found the We're Heres at the back of the audience, and was standing, as by right, between Dan and Disko. Uncle Salters, returned the night before with Penn, from Pamlico Sound, received him suspiciously.
"Hain't your folk gone yet?" he grunted. "What are you doin' here, young feller?"
"O ye Seas and Floods, bless ye the Lord: praise him, and magnify him for ever!"
"Hain't he good right?" said Dan. "He's bin there, same as the rest of us."
"Not in them clothes," Salters snarled.