"But, Elijah—" she faltered.
"I have given the matter careful thought," interrupted the parson, "and have arrived at the conclusion that this performance is uncalled for, unbecoming, undignified, and unnecessary." Mr. Flint never left the church—he was in the pulpit always, and for ever preaching.
"Elijah!" gasped his wife.
The parson's alliterative denouncement amused his son in the same degree that it caused his wife's dismay, and it was with difficulty that Will controlled his mirth.
"And furthermore," Mr. Flint continued, "it is my desire that you sever your connection with the organization immediately."
"But, Elijah, I am deeply interested in the work, and we—we need the money—I mean the club does," faltered Mrs. Flint.
"The evil one," said the parson, impressively, "employs many means and uses countless disguises for that unholy purpose."
"But surely you do not think that the principles of our club are wrong?"
"Not wholly; but the method pursued to further your purposes is far from my interpretation of right."
"But the other ladies, many of them belong to our church, and they—"