he audience rustled in.

So engrossed was he that he seemed to have no eyes even for Ophelia, who
perched high aloft, the brightest flower in the hanging garden of color
that banked the tiers of the choir division terracing up behind the
platform. She, in turn, had no eyes for any there save Prof. Cephus
Fringe, who, it should be added, had one eye for Ophelia and the other
for his own person. Even by those prejudiced in his favor it was not to
be denied that the Professor was, as one might say, passionately
addicted to himself. When, with Cephus Fringe accompanying and
directing, the opening hymn was offered, Ophelia, lifting high her
soprano voice, sang directly at, to, and for him. From the front this
plainly was to be observed; in fact was the subject of whispered comment
among some of Jeff's neighbors.

As though he heard them not nor saw the byplay, he gave no sign which
might be interpreted as denoting annoyance or chagrin. There was only a
friendly and whole-souled approval in his look when, following the
song, Prof. Fringe rendered--I believe this is the customary
phrase--rendered as a solo on his saxophone one of the compositions
bearing his name as author. There was rapt attention and naught else in
his pose and on his face the while the Rev. Wickliffe, swinging his
scythe of righteousness, mowed for a solid hour in Satan's weedy back
yard, so that the penitents fell in a broad swath.

From her place hard by, Aunt Dilsey vigilantly watched Jeff and was, in
spite of herself, convinced of his sincerity. She marked how, at the
close of the meeting, he passed slowly, almost reluctantly out, stopping
more than once and looking rearward as though half inclined to turn back
and join the ranks of those who clustered still at the foot of the
pulpit, completely and utterly won over. She was moved to direct the
notice of certain of the sistren and brethren to his behavior as
conspicuous proof of the compelling fervor of the Sin Killer. Swiftly
the word spread that Jeff Poindexter magically had ceased to be a
horrible example and was betraying evidences that he might yet become
what insurance agents call a prospect.

As though to justify this hope Jeff attended Tuesday night; his presence
attesting him a well-wisher, his deportment an added testimony that he
deeply had been stirred by the outpoured words of the revivalist. Before
the service got under way he seized upon an opportunity to be
introduced to the Rev. Wic