Just then came a ring at the front door; and a moment later the Beaubien ushered Doctor Morton into the room. All rose and hastened to welcome him.
“I––I am sure,” began the visitor, looking at Carmen, “that I am not intruding, for I really come on invitation, you know. Miss Carmen, first; and then, our good friend Hitt, who told me this afternoon that you would probably meet this evening. I––I pondered the matter some little time––ah, but––well, to make it short, I couldn’t keep away from a gathering so absolutely unique as this––I really couldn’t.”
Carmen seized both his hands. “My!” she exclaimed, her eyes dancing, “I am glad you came.”
“And I, too,” interposed Haynerd dryly, “for now we have two theological Philistines. I was feeling a bit lonely.”
“Ah, my friend,” replied the doctor, “I am simply an advocate of religious freedom, not a––”
“And religious freedom, as our wise Bill Nye once said, is but the art of giving intolerance a little more room, eh?” returned Haynerd with a laugh.
The doctor shrugged his shoulders. “You are a Philistine,” he said. “I am a human interrogation.”
Carmen took the doctor by the arm and led him to a place beside her at the table. “You––you didn’t bring poor Yorick?” she whispered, with a glint of mischief in her bright eyes.
“No,” laughed the genial visitor, “he’s a dead one, you told me.”
“Yes,” replied the girl, “awfully dead! He is an outward manifestation of dead human beliefs, isn’t he? But now listen, Father Waite is going to speak.”