A chill passed over the crowd when it became generally known that the notorious Arabella was arriving. There was not a negro present who would not have given all he possessed to have been at home. But every one was too superstitious to run away; that would have brought bad luck. Therefore, with a kind of fear that produces confidence and brings hope the unhappy negroes collected about Arabella and offered their services, but with the air of a judge, who had the power to sentence to prison or death the entire crowd, she refused all proffers of help. The mule unhitched and tied to a dogwood sprout she went to the harbor and took a seat half way down the middle pew. Every person craned slyly his neck to see her. The prophetess sat, with her arms folded across her lap, silent and dignified. Cæsar, who had escorted her in, seemed to be absorbed in some profound thought. No one went near the pair. The older men of the congregation retired to the amen corner and sat like dummies waiting for the hour for the sermon to begin. Everybody was wild with pent-up excitement. There was anxiety in every eye. Feeling, though suppressed, ran high. Brother Honeycutt, trembling with emotion, announced that the ten-thirty service would begin with prayer and asked one and all to join him in a petition to the Lord for a successful meeting. He fell upon his knees and prayed long and earnestly, beseeching the Maker to stay the hand of the evil one and save the Reding Springs people from any great pending calamity. The fervent ones punctuated and punctured the prayer with hearty amens. Hymns were sung and the sermon commenced. At first there was nothing unusual about the services. They were like those of all negro meetings held in rural districts, except that the congregation seemed unusually quiet. The falling of a pin upon the floor could have been heard across the room. The arrival of Arabella had brought order. The bravest of the rowdies would not have dared disturb the tranquillity of that meeting. A most pious and respectful body of worshippers it was! Along toward the latter part of the sermon Parson Honeycutt warmed up to his subject and spoke with force and feeling, picturing the scenes of judgment day, when all would be begging Peter for admittance to the Holy Land. His story and enthusiasm were calculated to touch the hardest-hearted sinner. As he moved on, swinging, half speaking and half singing, the audience became more and more interested. As he swayed to and fro behind the pulpit his hearers swung in sympathy. In conclusion he sung: “De ole time religion is good enough for me, It wuz good enough for Paul and Silas, An’ it’s good enough for me.” The entire congregation chimed in and sang with spirit if not understanding. It was at this juncture that an over-wrought sister, singing and crying at the top of her voice, “an’ it’s good enough fer me,” rushed into the aisle, clapping her hands, and shouting.