“Times have changed since then,” said Mr. Yetts. “Paul probably never encountered precisely such an emergency. Once more!” exclaimed Mr. Yetts to the assailants. “Give it to ’em hard this time!”
Seizing the beam, the vestrymen and their friends advanced once more to the attack. Three times was the door smitten without effect, but when the fourth blow was struck it gave way, and was flung wide open, revealing Father Tunicle and his friends, standing amid a mass of overturned and wrecked furniture, pale with rage and dismay, and ready to defend with force the citadel which thus was exposed to the enemy.
A Riotous Service.
The crowd sent up a shout of satisfaction, and the intrepid Yetts, with his five vestrymen, regarded their triumph with exultation.
What they would have done next, if they had been permitted to press forward through the breach, can only be imagined. For a moment it looked as if beneath that spire which idly pointed these men toward a better country, whence rage and hatred and all evil passions are shut out, and beneath the bell, whose function was to send vibrating through the tremulous air its summons to the temple of the Prince of Peace, there might be a hand-to-hand encounter, in which priest and people should assail each other with furious violence.
But, most happily, at this critical moment, a squad of policemen came upon the scene, and entering the doorway, separated the combatants and prevented any further demonstration.
“Never mind!” exclaimed Mr. Yetts, shaking his fist at the Father Tunicle faction. “We will go to law about it. We shall see who has a right to use this church!”
“As you please!” replied Mr. Sloper, one of the vestrymen who adhered to Father Tunicle. “We will fight you to the last gasp!”
And then both parties dispersed, leaving the church in charge of the policemen, who closed the door, and took the key to the nearest magistrate.