Miss Trapnell and Miss Clothier were in their places, their appointed places it seemed, like something in a hymn, or the wise virgins in the Bible. Not much hope of them sparing any oil from their lamps. O, happy servant he, In such a posture found, thought Prudence with irritation, noticing Miss Clothier’s casual glance at her watch.
https://hymnary.org/hymn/CHCS1898/105?highlight=&media=text
