It was a lovely day in September. The sun was still hot, but there were sweet, warm gusts of wind, which tossed the leafy branches to and fro, and brought with it the sweet perfume of wild flowers and the pungent scent of herbs. There were many open spaces where the sun had dried the moist earth, and where the children could play safely. They played till the little ones were tired, and then they turned their steps towards the deserted hut, to eat their dinner. It had been a charcoal-burner's hut, but for many years no peasant had consented to work there, so near was it to a fatally-haunted spot. It stood in a dense thicket, with no beaten track to it; for the Stundists were careful not to tread down a path which might betray their meeting-place. A few rough trunks of trees formed some benches for the congregation to sit upon, and a large log set on end served as a table for the preacher to stand at, and lay his Bible and hymnbook on. The children sat here and ate their dinner with a subdued gaiety even more enjoyable than the boisterous play outside. They sang a grace before the meal began. "Let us hold a meeting," Sergius proposed, when dinner was over, "and Michael shall be our deacon." "Yes, yes!" cried all the children, clapping their hands. A few hymn-books were concealed in a hole in the thatched roof. These were quickly brought out, and Michael took his place behind the preacher's log, whilst his congregation seated themselves with smiling faces on the benches. "My little brothers and sisters," he began, "we can sing a hymn, but I don't think it would be right for me to pray. I am too young to do that out loud, and for you to listen to me. I might say something I ought not to say; and you would perhaps be thinking of me, not of God. But I'll talk to you, after we have sung 'Oh, happy band of pilgrims!'" CHAPTER VI THE CHILDREN'S SERVICE THE children's voices rang out in clear, sweet, and harmonious tones; for the Oukrainians are a musical people, and fond of choral singing. Only now and then a shrill note, sounding like a cry of triumph, broke the harmony. It was little Clava, who had not yet learned how to modulate her voice; and Sergius would have checked her, only Michael gave him a sign to let the child sing on.