Dale, however, cut their chat as short as possible,
and directly he had shaken off Mr. Creech he walked away briskly
toward Rodchurch.
He had intended to arrive at the Baptist Chapel before the evening
service began, but now he was late. The congregation were all on their
knees, and the pastor, standing in his desk or pulpit above a raised
platform, had begun to pray aloud. Dale paused just inside the door,
looking at his strange surroundings, and feeling the awkwardness of a
person who enters a place that he has never seen before, and finds
himself among a lot of people who have their own customs and usages,
all of which are unknown to him. Then he noticed that a man was
smiling at him and beckoning, and he bowed gravely and followed the
hand. He was led up the little building to some empty chairs on a
level with the platform, at right angles to the rows of benches, and
close to a harmonium. Mr. Osborn, the pastor, had stopped praying, and
he did not go on again until Dale was seated. No one else had looked
up or seemed to be aware of the interruption caused by his entrance.
He assumed a duly reverent attitude, not kneeling, but bending his
body forward, and observed everything with great interest.
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