Simple little conversation; quite trivial indeed, but it had been attended by much shifting thought. To begin with, the rector regretted the necessity of disapproving of a young lady so undeniably attractive. She was a pleasure to the eye and a stimulus to the mind, and always his first impulse when he thought of her was one of pleasure, but in the very moment of taking her hand, he saw again that picture of Gail, clasped in the arms of the impulsive young man from home. That picture had made it distasteful for him to call and sing. He had not been too busy! Another incident flashed back to him. The night of the toboggan party, when she had stood with her face upturned, and the moonlight gleaming on her round white throat. He had trembled, much to his later sorrow, as he fastened the scarf about her warm neck. However, she was the visiting niece of one of his vestrymen, who lived next door to the rectory. She was particularly charming in this outfit of brown, which enhanced so much her rich tints.
Gail jerked her pretty head impatiently. If the Reverend Smith Boyd meant to be as sombre as this, she’d rather he’d stay at home. He was dreadfully gloomy at times; though she was compelled to admit that he was good-looking, in a manly sort of way, and had a glorious voice and a stimulating mind. She invariably recalled him with pleasure, but something about him aggravated her so. Strange about that quick withdrawal of his hand. It was almost rude. He had done the same thing at the toboggan party. He had fastened her scarf, and then he had jerked away his hands as if he were annoyed! However, he was the rector, and her Uncle Jim was a vestryman, and they lived right next door.
“You just escaped a blowing up, Doctor Boyd,” observed “Daddy” Manning, joining them, and his eyes twinkled from one to the other. “Our young friend from the west is harsh with the venerable Market Square Church.”
“Again?” and the Reverend Smith Boyd was gracious enough to smile. “What is the matter with it this time?”
“It is not only commercial, but criminal,” repeated Manning, with a sly smile at Gail, who now wore a little red spot in each cheek.
“In what way?” and the rector turned to her severely.
“The mere fact that your question needs an answer is sufficient indication of the callousness of every one connected with Market Square Church,” she promptly informed him. “That the church should permit a spot like this to exist, when it has the power to obliterate it, is unbelievable; but that it should make money from the condition is infamous!”
The Reverend Smith Boyd’s cold eyes turned green, as he glared at this daring young person. In offending the dignity of Market Square Church she offended his own.
“What would you have us do?” he quietly asked.
“Retire from business,” she informed him, nettled by the covert sneer at her youth and inexperience. She laid aside a new perplexity for future solution. In moments such as this the rector was far from ministerial, and he displayed a quickness to anger quite out of proportion to the apparent cause. “The whole trouble with Market Square Church, and of the churches throughout the world, is that they have no God. The Creator has been reduced to a formula.”