The people commenced to arrive on horseback and in drays. The women went
on to the verandah with their babies; the men hung round outside and
waited. Some sat under the peach-tree and nibbled sticks and killed
green-heads; others leant against the fence; while a number gathered round
the pig-sty and talked about curing bacon.
The parson came along. All of them stared at him; watched him unsaddle
his horse and hunt round for a place to fasten the beast. They regarded
the man in the long black coat with awe and wonder.
Everything was now ready, and, when Dad carried in the side-boards of the
dray and placed them on boxes for seat accommodation, the clergyman
awaited his congregation, which had collected at the back-door. Anderson
stepped in; the rest followed, timid-looking, and stood round the room
till the clergyman motioned them to sit. They sat and watched him closely.
"We'll now join in singing hymn 499," said the parson, commencing to sing
himself. The congregation listened attentively, but did n't join in.
The parson jerked his arms encouragingly at them, which only made them the
more uneasy. They did n't understand. He snapped his arms harder, as he
lifted his voice to the rafters; still they only stared.
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