The first half of the service had been gone through on this particular Sunday without anything remarkable happening.  It was at the end of the psalm which preceded the sermon that Sanders Elshioner, who sat near the door, lowered his head until it was no higher than the pews, and in that attitude, looking almost like a four-footed animal, slipped out of the church.  In their eagerness to be at the sermon many of the congregation did not notice him, and those who did put the matter by in their minds for future investigation.  Sam’l however, could not take it so coolly.  From his seat in the gallery he saw Sanders disappear, and his mind misgave him.  With the true lover’s instinct he understood it all.  Sanders had been struck by the fine turnout in the T’nowhead pew.  Bell was alone at the farm.  What an opportunity to work one’s way up to a proposal!  T’nowhead was so overrun with children that such a chance seldom occurred, except on a Sabbath.  Sanders, doubtless, was off to propose, and he, Sam’l, was left behind.

The suspense was terrible.  Sam’l and Sanders had both known all along that Bell would take the first of the two who asked her.  Even those who thought her proud admitted that she was modest.  Bitterly the weaver repented having waited so long.  Now it was too late.  In ten minutes Sanders would be at T’nowhead; in an hour all would be over.  Sam’l rose to his feet in a daze.  His mother pulled him down by the coat-tail, and his father shook him, thinking he was walking in his sleep.  He tottered past them, however, hurried up the aisle, which was so narrow that Dan’l Ross could only reach his seat by walking sideways, and was gone before the minister could do more than stop in the middle of a whirl and gape in horror after him.

A number of the congregation felt that day the advantage of sitting in the loft.  What was a mystery to those downstairs was revealed to them.  From the gallery windows they had a fine open view to the south; and as Sam’l took the common, which was a short cut through a steep ascent, to T’nowhead, he was never out of their line of vision.  Sanders was not to be seen, but they guessed rightly the reason why.  Thinking he had ample time, he had gone round by the main road to save his boots—­perhaps a little scared by what was coming.  Sam’l’s design was to forestall him by taking the shorter path over the burn and up the commonty.

It was a race for a wife, and several onlookers in the gallery braved the minister’s displeasure to see who won.  Those who favoured Sam’l’s suit exultingly saw him leap the stream, while the friends of Sanders fixed their eyes on the top of the common where it ran into the road.  Sanders must come into sight there, and the one who reached this point first would get Bell.