"We've one business in life, to serve God and obey Him. We're not to follow changing winds."
Levis moved impatiently.
"Your lot may have been cast in those dim, musty, horrible places. The lot of my boy and girl is cast in the world where they've got to be better fortified than your doctrine would fortify them. They've got to stand on their own feet and think for themselves. They know right and wrong; the rest they'll have to work out."
Grandfather leaned forward, scorn upon his trembling lips.
"What have you worked out? The doctrine of the Trinity? Or trine immersion? Or salvation by faith? Any of these doctrines?"
"None of them," answered Levis lightly. "Not a single one of them."
"You will be eternally destroyed," warned Grandfather, truly appalled.
"Well," said Levis—then he felt ashamed. There was no use in further horrifying an old man of whom he had so obviously the upper hand. "You and I shouldn't discuss this subject. Each of us knows what the other thinks and there's no likelihood of either of us changing." He tried to recall some pleasant subject upon which he and his father-in-law could agree. Grandfather was not interested in politics, and still less in several wonderful medical discoveries which Levis read about with eyes agleam like those of a traveler at sight of a new continent. Grandfather held the practice of medicine to be useless idling.
"We've had a good harvest," said Levis, at last.
Grandfather stood upright. His beard was blown to one side by a sudden breeze which made the flame of the lamp waver.