It was well for Polly that she was too big to have her ears boxed . Even so , it might not have saved her if they had been anywhere else than in church . Meanwhile the men who were sitting in the choir -- three basses and two tenors -- were beginning to dimly suspect that there was something amiss here too . Where were the sopranos and the altos ? Myra Wilson and Alethea Craig and several other members of the choir were sitting down in their pews with perfectly unconscious faces . Myra was looking out of the window into the tangled sunlight and shadow of the great maples . Alethea Craig was reading her Bible . Presently Frances Spenslow came in . Frances was organist , but today , instead of walking up to the platform , she slipped demurely into her father 's pew at one side of the pulpit . Eben Craig , who was the Putney singing master and felt himself responsible for the choir , fidgeted uneasily . He tried to catch Frances 's eye , but she was absorbed in reading the mission report she had found in the rack , and Eben was finally forced to tiptoe down to the Spenslow pew and whisper , `` Miss Spenslow , the minister is waiting for the doxology . Are n't you going to take the organ ? '' Frances looked up calmly . Her clear , placid voice was audible not only to those in the nearby pews , but to the minister . `` No , Mr. Craig . You know if a woman is n't fit to speak in the church she ca n't be fit to sing in it either . '' Eben Craig looked exceedingly foolish . He tiptoed gingerly back to his place . The minister , with an unusual flush on his thin , ascetic face , rose suddenly and gave out the opening hymn . Nobody who heard the singing in Putney church that day ever forgot it .
Untrained XXXXX and tenors , unrelieved by a single female voice , are not inspiring .
basses choir eye maples organ organist pews side sunlight tenors