“Brethren!” he thundered. “It is time that we recognize some of our laymen. I see Mr. Harry Beaver of this church asking for the floor. Mr. Beaver may speak.”
“M-Mr. Ch-chairman, does M-Mr. Mc-McGowan b-believe in e-ev–––”
The unfortunate man blinked, backed, pumped, emitted a series of hissing sounds like escaping steam, but remained hopelessly stuck. Those round him dodged his foot gestures, and smiled appreciatively, while those not engaged in trying to escape mutilation of corns, encouragingly suggested words such as everlasting, everpresent, etc., which might have bearing on the subject previously under discussion. The little man spurned them all with vigorous backings and increased hissings. At last, between a discouraged hiss and a triumphant sputter, the awful word rolled out.
“Evolution!” he shouted, and sat down.
After the laughter had subsided, the moderator demanded that the candidate answer the question.
“Yes, Mr. Moderator.”
Mr. Means was on his feet in an incredibly 43 short time for one so bulky. “Then, you deny here in the face of these wise men, as you did before your superiors in the New York Presbytery, the creation story of the Bible?”
“I did not deny it then, and I do not deny it now.”
“Brethren, we have the right to an explanation from our young brother. I was denied that privilege at the time of his ordination. But I consider his contradictory statements so serious a thing that I shall give you the opportunity that was denied me.”