Her first impression was one of horror. Covey seated at the table, a huge book spread open in front of him, thrust his round head in her direction and glared wolfishly. The oil lamp’s glare threw him into sharp relief. The light touched Lucy’s white face and the figure of another man, larger than Covey, who gave her a flat, malignant stare. But behind them the room was filled with shadows frozen into queer and grotesque shapes. “You’re late, Sister Amelia.” Her brother-in-law’s tone was benign. “This household starts the day with worship--all our big family.” He waved his arm, taking in all the room. A ripple of movement undulated the darkness, quivered, and then was gone. “I’m so sorry,” Amelia managed to murmur as she groped her way to a chair. Gasps came from behind her. She dared not turn around, and sat biting her lips. Covey seemed to hear nothing. He was peering at the book, his short, stubby finger tracing each word as he began to read slowly and painfully: “O give thanks unto the Lord, for he is good; for his mercy endureth for ever. Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, whom he hath redeemed from the hand of the enemy; And gathered them out of the lands, from the east, and from the west, from the north, and from the south. They wandered in the wilderness in a solitary way; they found no city to dwell in. Hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted in them. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble and he delivered them out of their distresses. And he led them forth by the right way, that they might go to a city of habitation.” “Praise the Lord!” added Covey and closed the Bible with a heavy thump. “Now then, Fred, lead us in song.” Amelia heard the choked gasp behind her. She could feel the struggle that cut off the panting breath. Waiting was unbearable. “You, Fred!” The command jerked a cry from the shadows. A memory flashed across Amelia’s mind. _Sid Green lashing his half-crazed horse, which had fallen in the ditch--Tom grabbing the whip and knocking Sid down._ Then a strained voice began to quiver. It missed several beats at first but gathered strength until Amelia knew it was a boy behind her, singing. In a moment, from Covey’s twisted mouth there came uneven, off-key notes, then Lucy’s reed-like treble sounded. From the shadows the music picked up, strange and wild and haunting. At first Amelia thought this was an unfamiliar chant, then she recognized the rolling words: “O for a thousand tongues to sing My great Redeem’s praise, The glories of my God and King, The triumphs of his grace.”