They turned out of their own street into a thin, grey one in which the puddles sprang and danced against isolated milk-cans and a desolate pillar-box.The little bell was now loud and strident, and when they passed into a passage which led into a square, rather grimy yard, Maggie saw that they had arrived.Before her was a hideous building, the colour of beef badly cooked, with grey stone streaks in it here and there and thin, narrow windows of grey glass with stiff, iron divisions between the glass.The porch to the door was of the ugliest grey stone with "The Lord Cometh" in big black letters across the top of it.Just inside the door was a muddy red mat, and near the mat stood a gentleman in a faded frock-coat and brown boots, an official apparently.There arrived at the same time as Maggie and her aunts a number of ladies and gentlemen all hidden beneath umbrellas.As they stood in the doorway a sudden scurry of wind and rain drove them all forward so that there was some crush and confusion in the little passage beyond the door.Waterproofs steamed; umbrellas were ranged in dripping disorder against the wall.The official, who talked in a hushed whisper that was drowned by the creaking of his boots, welcomed them all with the intimacy of an old acquaintance."Oh, Miss Hearst--terrible weather--no, she's not here yet." "Good morning, Mrs.Smith--very glad you're better.
Yes, I spoke to them about the prayer-books.They promised to return them this morning..." and so on.He turned, pushed back a door and led the way into the chapel.The interior was as ugly as the outside.The walls were of the coldest grey stone, broken here and there by the lighter grey of a window.Across the roof were rafters built of that bright shining wood that belongs intimately to colonial life, sheep-shearing, apples of an immense size and brushwood.Two lamps of black iron hung from these rafters.At the farther end of the chapel was a rail of this same bright wood, and behind the rail a desk and a chair.In front of the rail was a harmonium before which was already seated a stout and expectant lady, evidently eager to begin her duties of the day.The chapel was not very large and was already nearly filled.The congregation was sitting in absolute silence, so that the passing of Maggie and her aunts up the aisle attracted great attention.All eyes were turned in their direction and Maggie felt that she herself was an object of very especial interest.
Aunt Anne walked first and took what was obviously her own regular seat near the front.Maggie sat between her two aunts.She could not feel for the moment anything but a startled surprise at the ugliness of the building.She had entered at different times the Glebeshire chapels, but their primitive position and need had given them the spirit of honest sincerity.Here she had expected she did not know what.Always from those very early days when she had first heard about her aunts she had had visions of a strange illuminated place into which God, "riding on a chariot clothed in flames," would one day come.Even after she had grown up she had still fancied that the centre of her aunts' strange, fantastic religion must be a strange, fantastic place.And yet now, as she looked around her, she was not, to her own surprise, disappointed.She was even satisfied; the "wonder" was not in the building.Well, then, it must be in something "inside," something that she had yet to discover.The chapel had the thrilling quality of a little plain deal box that carries a jewel.
She examined then the people around her.Women were in a great majority, a man scattered forlornly amongst them once and again.She discovered at once the alert eyes of young Mr.Warlock.He was seated in the side aisle with a thin, severe-looking woman beside him.He stared straight in front of him, wriggling sometimes his broad back as though he were a dog tied by a chain.Some one else very quickly claimed Maggie's attention; this was a girl who, in the seat behind Mr.Warlock, was as noticeable in that congregation as a bird-of-paradise amongst a colony of crows.She was wearing a dress of light blue silk and a large hat of blue with a grey bird in the front of it.
Her hair, beneath the hat, was bright gold, her cheeks were the brightest pink and her eyes sparkled in a most lovely and fascinating manner.She was immensely interesting to Maggie, who had never, in her life, dreamed of anything so dazzling.She was very restless and animated and self-conscious.There sat at her side a stout and solemn woman, who was evidently from a strange, almost ironical likeness her mother.The young lady seemed to regard both the place and the occasion as the greatest joke in the world.She flung her eyes from one to another as though inviting some one to share her merriment.
Amongst that black-garbed assembly the blue dress shone out as though it would attract everything to itself."She's very pretty,"thought Maggie, who was more conscious of her shabby clothes than ever.But her chief feeling was of surprise that so brilliant a bird had been able to penetrate into the chapel at all."She must be a stranger just come out of curiosity." Then the girl's eyes suddenly met Maggie's and held them; the brilliant creature smiled and Maggie smiled in return.She looked afterwards at Aunt Anne, but Aunt Anne, buried in her book of devotions, had seen nothing.
Suddenly, after a strange wheeze and muffled scream, the harmonium began.Every one looked up expectantly; Mr.Warlock, alone, appeared from a door at the right of the screen and took his place behind the desk.