“And in the stock, too, eh?” pursued the cruel Harris. “Got any ore?”
“We haven’t struck the deposit yet, although we expect to soon. But,” glancing up at the clock on the mantel, “we’ll have to be going over to Sunday school now. And I want that little girl to go with Marjorie. Fellows,” the man’s face became deeply serious, “I have no doubt you are both church members?”
Reed fidgeted uneasily under Ketchim’s searching glance; but Harris frankly met the question. “Nope,” he asserted, “we’re both rank heathen. And I’m a dyed-in-the-wool atheist.”
“Gracious!” cried Ketchim, “how can you say that, when you see the goodness of the Lord on every hand?”
“Reed, I believe,” continued the imperturbable Harris, waving a hand toward his friend, “has philosophical leanings––New Thought, Subliminal Consciousness, Power in Silence, and all that. But I’ve got to be shown.”
“But surely you believe in the divinity of the Christ?”
“Well, as a matter of fact, I never gave it much thought,” said Harris. “Been pretty busy, you know. Lots of time for that later.”
“Ah, that’s what so many say,” replied Ketchim sadly; “and then comes the awful voice of the Lord, ‘This night thy soul shall be required of thee!’ Fellows, I want to pray for you; and I want you both to promise me that you will take up seriously the consideration of your souls’ welfare. It’s too grave a subject for jest,” addressing himself solemnly to the grinning Harris.
“All right, old man,” laughed Harris. “But don’t dig up any Presbyterian tracts for me. I’ve got a living witness to––well, to something out of the ordinary, in that girl, Carmen, and I’m inclined to believe she’s dug nearer to bottom facts than any of you. So when I’m ready to discuss my soul’s welfare I’ll just consult her, see?”