Of No Account by Ruth Lamb

IT was not late when Adam Livesey found himself on the road home, for the conductors of these mission services wisely brought them to a close at nine o'clock. They knew that their hearers would mainly consist of working men who must be in bed betimes, in order that they might be ready to rise early in the morning. It was a common thing for a few to stay and hold a brief prayer-meeting, or for individuals to ask advice from the conductors, but these would sanction no late gatherings which would unfit the men for the duties of the morrow.

Adam shrank from speaking to or being addressed by any one, and he was amongst the first to slip quietly out of the room. He had plenty to think about, and the wish uppermost in his mind was that his wife could have been with him. She would have been put right about the people she called hypocrites. He could understand her feelings about that neighbour who was constantly running about from one religious service to another, whilst neglecting her plainest every-day duties.