"Yes, that's our lecture-room. That's very nice."
So it was. Pleasant light from withinside streamed warm through the hanging window-blinds of the long windows, and promised welcome before they got in. At the door, under the projecting hood, a lamp shone bright upon the entrance steps. People were flocking in. The opening door let them into a cheerful room, not large, with long rows of seats on either hand of a wide, matted aisle; the view closed by a little desk at the farther end on a raised platform. Right and left of the desk, two small transepts did somewhat to enlarge the accommodations of the place, which had a cosy, home look, comfortable and bright.
"Where do those doors lead to?" Clarissa whispered;—"behind the desk?"
"Oh, those open to the infant class room. Isn't it nice?" Maria answered.
"It is small," said Clarissa.
"It is large enough, though. We shall not fill it to-night."
And they did not. There was only a little company gathered, of various ages. Some quite grown people; many who were younger. They had drawn towards the upper end of the room, and clustered near the platform.
"There is Mr. Richmond," Maria whispered presently; "do you see him? he is up there near the desk talking to Mr. Barker,—Mr. Barker is one of our teachers, but he has got nothing to do with the Band. That is Mrs. Trembleton, isn't she pretty?—sitting down there in front; she always sits just there, if she can, and I have seen her ever so put out if she couldn't when somebody else had got it, you know. And there"——
"But, Maria," whispered Clarissa, gravely, "do you think it is quite proper to whisper so in church?"
"This isn't church!" Maria replied, with great readiness.