"What means all this?" stormed the reverend, waving the brick.
"My very good friend, it is intended to prove only one thing. Nothing—absolutely nothing—is worth anything. The psychological impact of the pearly gate and the street of gold tends to strike home the fact that here in Fabriville, nothing of material substance is of value. Service, which cannot be duplicated, is the medium of exchange in Fabriville—have you anything to offer, reverend?"
"The Lord saith: 'Six days shalt thou labor—' You have destroyed that law, Johnson."
"That's no law. That's an admonition not to overdo your labor. He didn't want us laboring seven days per week. If He were running things under the present set-up, He'd be tickled pink to see people taking it easy five days per week, believe me."
"Sacrilege!"
"Is it? Am I being sacrilegious to believe that He has a sense of humor and a load more common sense than you and me?"
"To speak familiarly—"
"If I've offended Him, let Him strike me where I stand," smiled Keg.
"He is far too busy to hear the voice of an agnostic."
"Then He is far too busy to have heard that I mentioned Him in familiar terms. What is your point, reverend? What do you want?"