The choir gallery bulged over the rear seats, as if to dispute the relative importance of the pulpit. That was nothing. But it needed bracing. The committee decided against a single pillar, and erected two, one of them in the middle of Adam Wick's pew.
Adam looked at things simply. It seemed to his simplicity that the community had conspired to do him injustice. The spirit of nonconformity stirred within him. He went to the minister.
“Andrew Hill, nor any other man, nor committeeman's got no rights in my pew.”
The minister was dignified.
“The pew, Mr. Wick, belongs to the church.”
“No such thing! I sat twenty-four years in that pew.”
“But that, though very creditable—”
“No such thing! I'll have no post in my pew, for Andrew Hill nor no minister neither.”
“Mr. Wick—”
“You take that post out o' my pew.”