Only four, out of the seven sisters, one of whom was an old black woman, could muster up courage enough to tell, in answer to the preacher's call, the "dealing of God" with their souls; and only two of them could effect an utterance louder than a whisper. What they did say had in it but little coherence, and Mr. Odell had to content himself with an exhortation to each, of a general rather than a particular character. When the hymn was sung at the close, only one thin voice joined in the song of praise, and not a sob or sigh was heard in response to his prayer. The class-paper showed the names of thirty members, but here were only seven! This was rather discouraging for a commencement. Mr. Odell hardly knew what course to take; whether to stir up with some pretty sharp remarks the little company of believers who were present, and thus seek to impress the whole through them; or to wait until he came round again, and have a good chance at them from the pulpit. He concluded in the end, that the last course might be the best one. In calling over the names on the class-paper he found that sister Russell was absent. On dismissing the meeting, all except the old black woman retired. She lingered, however, to shake hands with the new preacher, and to show him that, if she was old, her teeth were good, and her eyes bright and lively. On emerging into the open air, Odell saw the last of his flock slowly retiring from the scene of worship. For two of the women, their husbands had waited on the outside of the meeting-house, and they had taken into their wagons two other women who lived near them. These wagons were already in motion, when the preacher came out followed by the old black woman, who it now appeared, had the key of the meeting-house door, which she locked. "Then you are the sexton, Aunty," remarked Odell, with a smile. "Yes, massa, I keeps de key." "Well, Nancy," said Odell, who had already made up his mind what he would do, "I am going home to dinner with you." "Me, massa!" Old Nancy looked as much surprised as a startled hare. "Yes. You see they've all gone and left me, and I feel hungry. You'll give me some of your dinner?" "Yes, massa, please God! I'll give you all of it--but, it's only pork and hominy." "Very good; and it will be all the sweeter because I am welcome." "'Deed massa, and you is welcome, five hundred times over! But it was a downright shame for all de white folks to go off so. I never seed such people." "Never mind, Nancy, don't trouble yourself; I shall be well enough taken care of. I'll trust to you for that."