“Oh, Mr. McGowan, please excuse us!” cried Elizabeth. “This is my brother. Harold, this is our new minister, Reverend Mr. 62 McGowan. Harold comes home so seldom that I fear his unexpected arrival demoralized our manners.”
“Delighted to meet you, Mr. McGowan,” cordially greeted Harold. “Heard of you before I got in sight of the house.”
The young men gripped each other’s hands. Consternation took possession of the Elder. Had his son fully understood?
“Mr. McGowan is the minister at our little church,” he said significantly.
“That’s what Beth just said. Didn’t I say the right thing to him, Dad? Want me to start all over again like I had to when I was a kid?”
He eyed the minister with a curious expression as they took their seats about the table.
“Maybe Dad wants me to repeat some verses to you. Used to do it and get patted on the head.”
Mr. McGowan laughed heartily, but the Elder showed his displeasure.
“That will do, Harold,” he commanded sternly. “I shall not allow profane jesting about sacred things in my house.”