“Oh yes, ye can. If ye listen in the right spirit,” gargled Miss Haddie hurriedly.
“Oh, it isn’t only the sermon, it’s the whole thing,” said Miriam crimsoning.
“Ye mustn’t think about the speaker,” went on Miss Haddie in faint hurried rebuke. “That’s wrong. That sets people running from church to church. You must attend your own parish church in the right spirit, let the preacher be who—who—what he may.”
“Oh, but I think that’s positively dangerous,” said Miriam gravely. “It simply means leaving your mind open for whatever they choose to say. Like Rome.”
“Eh, no—o—o,” flared Miss Haddie dropping her hands, “nonsense. Not like Rome at all.”
“But it is. It’s giving up your conscience.”
“You’re very determined,” laughed Miss Haddie bitterly.
“I’m certainly not going to give my mind up to a parson for him to do what he likes with. That’s what it is. That’s what they do. I’ve seen it again and again. I’ve heard people talking about sermons,” finished Miriam with vivacious intentness.
Miss Haddie sat very still with her hands once more pressed tightly against her face.
“Oh, my dear. This is a dreadful state of affairs. I’m afraid you’re all wrong. That’s not it at all. If you listen only for the good, the good will come to you.”