The farmers' carry-alls filled the long shed beside the church, and their
leathern faces looked up, with their wives' and children's, at Mr. Peck
where he sat high behind the pulpit; a patient expectance suggested itself
in the men's bald or grizzled crowns, and in the fantastic hats and bonnets
of their women folks. The village ladies were all in the perfection of
their street costumes, and they compared well with three or four of the
ladies from South Hatboro', but the men with them spoiled all by the
inadequacy of their fashion. Mrs. Gates, the second of her name, was very
stylish, but the provision-man had honestly the effect of having got for
the day only into the black coat which he had bought ready-made for his
first wife's funeral. Mr. Wilmington, who appeared much shorter than his
wife as he sat beside her, was as much inferior to her in dress; he wore,
with the carelessness of a rich man who could afford simplicity, a loose
alpaca coat and a cambric neckcloth, over which he twisted his shrivelled
neck to catch sight of Annie, as she rustled up the aisle. Mrs. Gerrish--so
much as could be seen of her--was a mound of bugled velvet, topped by a
small bonnet, which seemed to have gone much to a fat black pompon; she sat
far within her pew, and their children stretched in a row from her side to
that of Mr. Gerrish, next the door. He did not look round at Annie, but
kept an attitude of fixed self-concentration, in harmony with the severe
old-school respectability of his dress; his wife leaned well forward to
see, and let all her censure appear in her eyes.