Colonel Marvin, of the largest shoe-shop, showed the side of his large
florid face, with the kindly smile that seemed to hang loosely upon it; and
there was a good number of the hat-shop and shoe-shop hands of different
ages and sexes scattered about. The gallery, commonly empty or almost so,
showed groups and single figures dropped about here and there on its seats.

The Putneys were in their pew, the little lame boy between the father and
mother, as their custom was. They each looked up at her as she passed, and
smiled in the slight measure of recognition which people permit themselves
in church. Putney was sitting with his head hanging forward in pathetic
dejection; his face, when he first lifted it to look at Annie in passing,
was haggard, but otherwise there was no consciousness in it of what had
passed since they had sat there the Sunday before. When his glance took in
Idella too, in her sudden finery, a light of friendly mocking came into it,
and seemed to comment the relation Annie had assumed to the child.

Annie's pew was just in front of Lyra's, and Lyra pursed her mouth in
burlesque surprise as Annie got into it with Idella and turned round to
lift the child to the seat. While Mr. Peck was giving out the hymn, Lyra
leaned forward and whispered-"Don't imagine that this turnout is _all_ on your account, Annie. He's
going to preach against the Social Union and the social glass."