"Uh... Jubal, they didn't yell and it wasn't fanatical.  Sometimes they would barely whisper, the room almost dead quiet.  Then it might climb in volume a little but not much.  They did it in sort of a rhythm, a pattern, like a cantata, as if they had rehearsed it a long time... and yet it didn't feel as if they had rehearsed it; it felt more as if they were all just one person, humming to himself whatever he felt at the moment.  Jubal, you've seen how the Fosterites get themselves worked up-"