there was a ruined church along the way , an old methodist meeting house , which reared its shambles at the far end of a frost-heaved and hummocked lawn , and when you walked past the view of its glaring , senseless windows your footsteps became very loud in your ears and whatever you had been whistling died on your lips and you thought about how it must be inside - the overturned pews , the rotting hymnals , the crumbling altar where only mice now kept the sabbath , and you wondered what might be in there besides mice - what madmen , what monsters .