“It is Mr. Krum, six of the vestrymen, and a large portion of the congregation. We wish to enter.”
“Can’t do it,” replied the voice, which was that of the sexton, who had advanced to the front, and had been thrown out upon the picket line in the vestibule.
“Where is Father Tunicle?” asked Mr. Krum.
“He has just begun the service, and has gotten as far as ‘dearly beloved brethren.’ My orders are that you can’t get in until he says the apostolic benediction!”
“Ask one of the vestrymen to come to the window for a moment, please,” said Mr. Krum.
Presently one of the front windows was raised to the height of two or three inches, and Mr. Cowdrick peered through the wire netting that protected it.
“What do you want?” asked Mr. Cowdrick.
“We wish to know,” said Mr. Yetts, “why we are excluded from this church, and by whose authority?”
“You are excluded,” said Mr. Cowdrick, “because we who pay the expenses are determined to run the church in our own way. The door is shut by our authority; by mine!”
“Do you mean to say,” asked Mr. Krum, with much mildness, “that you intend to try to make this exclusion permanent?”