Summarize the following text to main points and sub-points and make detailed explain for them:

themselves, and had 
an equal right to the burying-service. At the same time, it was 
understood to be requisite for all who were not household servants, or 
young men, to take the sacrament at one of the great festivals: Squire 
Cass himself took it on Christmas-day; while those who were held to be 
"good livers" went to church with greater, though still with moderate, 
frequency. 
Mrs. Winthrop was one of these: she was in all respects a woman of 
scrupulous conscience, so eager for duties that life seemed to offer them 
too scantily unless she rose at half-past four, though this threw a scarcity 
of work over the more advanced hours of the morning, which it was a 
constant problem with her to remove. Yet she had not the vixenish 
temper which is sometimes supposed to be a necessary condition of such 
habits: she was a very mild, patient woman, whose nature it was to seek 
out all the sadder and more serious elements of life, and pasture her 
mind upon them. She was the person always first thought of in Raveloe 
when there was illness or death in a family, when leeches were to be 
applied, or there was a sudden disappointment in a monthly nurse. She 
was a "comfortable woman"—good-looking, fresh-complexioned, having 
her lips always slightly screwed, as if she felt herself in a sick-room with 
the doctor or the clergyman present. But she was never whimpering; no 
one had seen her shed tears; she was simply grave and inclined to shake 
her head and sigh, almost imperceptibly, like a funereal mourner who is 
not a relation. It seemed surprising that Ben Winthrop, who loved his 
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quart-pot and his joke, got along so well with Dolly; but she took her 
husband's jokes and joviality as patiently as everything else, considering 
that "men would be so", and viewing the stronger sex in the light of 
animals whom it had pleased Heaven to make naturally troublesome, 
like bulls and turkey-cocks. 
This good wholesome woman could hardly fail to have her mind drawn 
strongly towards Silas Marner, now that he appeared in the light of a 
sufferer; and one Sunday afternoon she took her little boy Aaron with 
her, and went to call on Silas, carrying in her hand some small lard-
cakes, flat paste-like articles much esteemed in Raveloe. Aaron, an 
apple-cheeked youngster of seven, with a clean starched frill which 
looked like a plate for the apples, needed all his adventurous curiosity to 
embolden him against the possibility that the big-eyed weaver might do 
him some bodily injury; and his dubiety was much increased when, on 
arriving at the Stone-pits, they heard the mysterious sound of the loom. 
"Ah, it is as I thought," said Mrs. Winthrop, sadly. 
They had to knock loudly before Silas heard them; but when he did come 
to the door he showed no impatience, as he would once have done, at a 
visit that had been unasked for and unexpected. Formerly, his heart had 
been as a locked casket with its treasure inside; but now the casket was 
empty, and the lock was broken. Left groping in darkness, with his prop 
utterly gone, Silas had inevitably a sense, though a dull and half-
despairing one, that if any help came to him it must come from without; 
and there was a slight stirring of expectation at the sight of his fellow-
men, a faint consciousness of dependence on their goodwill. He opened 
the door wide to admit Dolly, but without otherwise returning her 
greeting than by moving the armchair a few inches as a sign that she was 
to sit down in it. Dolly, as soon as she was seated, removed the white 
cloth that covered her lard-cakes, and said in her gravest way— 
"I'd a baking yisterday, Master Marner, and the lard-cakes turned out 
better nor common, and I'd ha' asked you to accept some, if you'd 
thought well. I don't eat such things myself, for a bit o' bread's what I like 
from one year's end to the other; but men's stomichs are made so 
comical, they want a change—they do, I know, God help 'em." 
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Dolly sighed gently as she held out the cakes to Silas, who thanked her 
kindly and looked very close at them, absently, being accustomed to look 
so at everything he took into his hand—eyed all the while by the 
wondering bright orbs of the small Aaron, who had made an outwork of 
his mother's chair, and was peeping round from behind it. 
"There's letters pricked on 'em," said Dolly. "I can't read 'em myself, and 
there's nobody, not Mr. Macey himself, rightly knows what they mean; 
but they've a good meaning, for they're the same as is on the pulpit-cloth 
at church. What are they, Aaron, my dear?" 
Aaron retreated completely behind his outwork. 
"Oh, go, that's naughty," said his mother, mildly. "Well, whativer the 
letters are, they've a good meaning; and it's a stamp as has been in our 
house, Ben says, ever since he was a little un, and his mother used to put 
it on the cakes, and I've allays put it on too; for if there's any good, we've 
need of it i' this world." 
"It's I. H. S.," said Silas, at which proof of learning Aaron peeped round 
the chair again. 
"Well, to be sure, you can read 'em off," said Dolly. "Ben's read 'em to me 
many and many a time, but they slip out o' my mind again; the more's 
the pity, for they're good letters, else they wouldn't be in the church; and 
so I prick 'em on all the loaves and all the cakes, though sometimes they 
won't hold, because o' the rising—for, as I said, if there's any good to be 
got we've need of it i' this world—that we have; and I hope they'll bring 
good to you, Master Marner, for it's wi' that will I brought you the cakes; 
and you see the letters have held better nor common." 
Silas was as unable to interpret the letters as Dolly, but there was no 
possibility of misunderstanding the desire to give comfort that made 
itself heard in her quiet tones. He said, with more feeling than before—
"Thank you—thank you kindly." But he laid down the cakes and seated 
himself absently—drearily unconscious of any distinct benefit towards 
which the cakes and the letters, or even Dolly's kindness, could tend for 
him. 
"Ah, if there's good anywhere, we've need of it," repeated Dolly, who did 
not lightly forsake a serviceable phrase. She looked at Silas pityingly as 
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she went on. "But you didn't hear the church-bells this morning, Master 
Marner? I doubt you didn't know it was Sunday. Living so lone here, you 
lose your count, I daresay; and then, when your loom makes a noise, you 
can't hear the bells, more partic'lar now the frost kills the sound." 
"Yes, I did; I heard 'em," said Silas, to whom Sunday bells were a mere 
accident of the day, and not part of its sacredness. There had been no 
bells in Lantern Yard. 
"Dear heart!" said Dolly, pausing before she spoke again. "But what a 
pity it is you should work of a Sunday, and not clean yourself—if 
you didn't go to church; for if you'd a roasting bit, it might be as you 
couldn't leave it, being a lone man. But there's the bakehus, if you could 
make up your mind to spend a twopence on the oven now and then,—not 
every week, in course—I shouldn't like to do that myself,—you might 
carry your bit o' dinner there, for it's nothing but right to have a bit o' 
summat hot of a Sunday, and not to make it as you can't know your 
dinner from Saturday. But now, upo' Christmas-day, this blessed 
Christmas as is ever coming, if you was to take your dinner to the 
bakehus, and go to church, and see the holly and the yew, and hear the 
anthim, and then take the sacramen', you'd be a deal the better, and 
you'd know which end you stood on, and you could put your trust i' 
Them as knows better nor we do, seein' you'd ha' done what it lies on us 
all to do." 
Dolly's exhortation, which was an unusually long effort of speech for her, 
was uttered in the soothing persuasive tone with which she would have 
tried to prevail on a sick man to take his medicine, or a basin of gruel for 
which he had no appetite. Silas had never before been closely urged on 
the point of his absence from church, which had only been thought of as 
a part of his general queerness; and he was too direct and simple to 
evade Dolly's appeal. 
"Nay, nay," he said, "I know nothing o' church. I've never been to 
church." 
"No!" said Dolly, in a low tone of wonderment. Then bethinking herself 
of Silas's advent from an unknown country, she said, "Could it ha' been 
as they'd no church where you was born?" 
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"Oh, yes," said Silas, meditatively, sitting in his usual posture of leaning 
on his knees, and supporting his head. "There was churches—a many—it 
was a big town. But I knew nothing of 'em—I went to chapel." 
Dolly was much puzzled at this new word, but she was rather afraid of 
inquiring further, lest "chapel" might mean some haunt of wickedness. 
After a little thought, she said— 
"Well, Master Marner, it's niver too late to turn over a new leaf, and if 
you've niver had no church, there's no telling the good it'll do you. For I 
feel so set up and comfortable as ni

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