The only days she could not see her were Sundays ; and no Sundays had ever seemed so long to Old Lady Lloyd as those June Sundays did . One day the egg pedlar had news for her . `` The music teacher is going to sing a solo for a collection piece to-morrow , '' he told her . The Old Lady 's black eyes flashed with interest . `` I did n't know Miss Gray was a member of the choir , '' she said . `` Jined two Sundays ago . I tell you , our music is something worth listening to now . The church 'll be packed to-morrow , I reckon -- her name 's gone all over the country for singing . You ought to come and hear it , Miss Lloyd . '' The pedlar said this out of bravado , merely to show he was n't scared of the Old Lady , for all her grand airs . The Old Lady made no answer , and he thought he had offended her . He went away , wishing he had n't said it . Had he but known it , the Old Lady had forgotten the existence of all and any egg pedlars . He had blotted himself and his insignificance out of her consciousness by his last sentence . All her thoughts , feelings , and wishes were submerged in a very whirlpool of desire to hear Sylvia sing that solo . She went into the house in a tumult and tried to conquer that desire . She could not do it , even thought she summoned all her pride to her aid . Pride said : `` You will have to go to church to hear her . You have n't fit clothes to go to church in . Think what a figure you will make before them all . ''
But , for the first time , a more insistent voice than pride spoke to her soul -- and , for the first time , the Old XXXXX listened to it .
Gray Lady Lloyd Sundays Sylvia ago day days pedlars tumult