The things we do!

Then evening came. Grindhusen went off home, leaving me behind. I slept in
the hayloft for the night.
Next day was Sunday. I dared not put on my town clothes lest they should
seem above my station, but cleaned up my working things as neatly as I
could, and idled about the place in the quiet of Sunday morning. I chatted
to the farm-hands and joined them in talking nonsense to the maids; when
the bell began ringing for church, I sent in to ask if I might borrow a
Prayer Book, and the priest's son brought me one himself. One of the men
lent me a coat; it wasn't big enough, really, but, taking off my blouse
and vest, I made it do. And so I went to church.
That inward calm I had been at such pains to build up on the island proved
all too little yet; at the first thrill of the organ I was torn from my
setting and came near to sobbing aloud. "Keep quiet, you fool," I said to
myself, "it's only neurasthenia." I had chosen a seat well apart from the
rest, and hid my emotion as best I could.


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