“Yes. I am old-fashioned enough to believe in the need of––er––the saving power of 59 the gospel. Full pews without that would make our church the sounding of brass and the tinkling of cymbal. We must have the old-time power in our churches to-day, Mr. McGowan.”
“You think Little River needs reforming, Father?”
“That is exactly the point I make: it is more than reformation we need, it is conversion. Take the Athletic Club, for example. Will reform stop them? No, sir, no more than a straw-stack would stop a tornado. They need––er––a mighty thunderbolt from heaven, and I hope that you will let God use you, sir, as the transmitting agency.”
A picture of himself occupying the place of Zeus, holding in his hand the lightnings of heaven, flitted through the minister’s mind. He smiled faintly. Elizabeth evidently caught what was in the young man’s mind, for she met his glance with a merry twinkle.
“Really, Father, don’t you think Mr. McGowan would look out of place as a lightning-rod, even on Little River Church?”
“I was speaking figuratively, my dear,” 60 he replied, somewhat crestfallen that his reference should be thus irreverently treated. “The boys in that club are a reckless lot, and they are doing the work––er––of the devil. They must be brought to repentance.”
“I don’t think that is fair, Father. The church is not wholly without blame for what those boys have done,” declared Elizabeth emphatically. “What did we do to keep them from going out and organizing as they have?”
“No doubt we did make mistakes in the beginning, but our errors do not atone for their sins.”
“But, Father–––”
“There, Beth, never mind. We can never agree on that point, and we should not entangle Mr. McGowan in our differences. I only hope he will do all in his power to make them see the sinfulness of their ways.”