Erma, astonished, looked about her, and the angry, scornful looks cast at her caused a stinging sensation in her face as though it had been stuck by so many sharp needles. In her confusion she mechanically tried to enter seat after seat, but was barricaded out. Finding it to be their intention to prevent her from sitting anywhere in that section of the church, she went forward to the "Amen corner," and finding a vacant seat there, she sat down. The fact that Erma Wysong, a servant, had taken an "Amen corner" seat in the Leigh Street Church stirred the group to fever heat. Ellen gave a faint shriek of horror--one about the size to express righteous indignation in a Christian church on the Sabbath day. A Negro doctor got up and went to two of the ushers and said, "Sirs, I appeal to you! The dignity of this church is outraged! Look yonder where that servant girl sits! The idea! This is the most aristocratic Negro church in this city and yet you allow that girl to sit there!" "We didn't know that she was going to sit there," said an usher, obsequiously. "Well, now you know it, sir! Do you think that the white folks would allow a white servant girl to sit on the front pew in their church? We shall never amount to anything as a race until we learn to do as white people," said the indignant doctor. "Well, what would you say do, doctor?" inquired the same obsequious usher. "What do! what do! Why, what would white people do? Put her out! Put her out!" exclaimed the doctor. The ushers nearly tumbled over each other to get to Erma to do what they supposed white people would do to a white servant girl under similar circumstances. Between these two ushers, Erma was escorted out of the church, her face burning with shame. They did not turn her loose until she was full on the sidewalk, when they left her, returning to worship the God of the Nazarene carpenter lad. Erma looked up and down the street in a lost sort of way. A single pair of tears came into her eyes and a sob was forced out of her throat by her throbbing heart. Thoughts of her lonely, unprotected condition in the world crowded upon her; visions of her departed mother floated before her eyes; the thought of being ejected from God's house in seeming disgrace came down upon her with terrific force and the poor girl sobbed bitterly, burying her face in her handkerchief. She felt an arm steal around her neck and heard a voice murmur, "Pore chile, pore chile." It was the arm and voice of Aunt Mollie Marston, who had followed Erma out of the church.