"Jesus, _Jesus_, JESUS!"
The great negress caught him in her arms as he fell, and laid him down,
then leaped up and down, shrieking:--
"O Jesus, come. Come, God's Lamb!"
Around her a dozen women took up her cry. Most of them had no voices.
Their horrifying screams had become hoarse hisses, yet still they
strove. Scores of voices were mixed in the pandemonium of prayer.
All order was lost. Three of the preachers now stood shouting before the
mourners' bench, two were in the aisles.
One came down the aisle toward the girl with the braided hair. As he
came he prayed. Foam was on his lips, but his eyes were cool and
calculating; they betrayed him.
As he came he fixed his gaze upon a woman seated near the prostrate
girl, and with a horrible outcry the victim leaped into the air and
stiffened as if smitten with epilepsy. She fell against some scared
boys, who let her fall, striking her head against the seats. She too
rolled down upon the straw and lay beside her sister. Both had round,
pretty, but childish faces.
Milton's party retreated. They smiled no more; they were
horror-stricken.
Squads of "workers" now moved down the aisles; in one they surrounded
two people, a tall, fair girl and a young man.
"Why, it's Grace!" exclaimed Maud.