“It seemeth,” said Dr Thorpe, “as though the less space there were betwixt my doctrine and thine, the more bitterly must thou and I wrangle!”
“Commonly it is so,” replied Avery.
“And while these real battles be fighting,” pursueth he, “betwixt Christ’s followers and Christ’s foes,—what a sight is it to see the followers dividing them on such matters as—whether childre shall be baptised with the cross or no; whether a certain garment shall be worn or no; whether certain days shall be kept with public service or no! Tush! it sickeneth a man with the whole campaign.”
Both rose, but after his farewell Dr Thorpe broke out again, as though he could not let the matter drop.
“Do the fools think,” asked the old man, “that afore the angels will open the gate of Heaven unto a man, they fall a-questioning him—to wit, whether salt were used at his baptism; whether his body were buried looking toward the East or the West; whether when he carried his Bible he held it in his right hand or his left? Dolts, idiots, patches! (Fools.) It should do me a relief to duck every man of them in the Tamar.”
“And cause them to swallow a dose of physic at afterward?” laughed Avery.
“It were hemlock, then,” said Dr Thorpe, grimly.
“Nay, friend, not so bad as that, methinks. But shall I give you one dose of a better physic than any of yours? ‘By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye have love one toward another.’”
“How are they to know it now?” said Dr Thorpe, despairingly. “How are they to know it? Well, I know not; maybe thou art not so far-off, Jack; but for all other I know—”
And away he went, shaking his grey head.