“However,” went on the rector, “it is the habit and the privilege of youth to run to extremes. Sweeping doubt takes the place of reasonable criticism, and the much which is good is condemned alike with the little which has grown useless.”
He paused to give Gail a chance for reply, but that straight-eyed young lady had nothing to say, at this juncture.
“I do not expect to be able to remove the spiritual errors, which I am compelled to judge that you have accumulated, by any other means than patient logic,” he resumed. “May I discuss these matters with you?” His voice was grave and serious, and full of earnest sincerity, and the musical quality alone of it made patient logical discussion seem attractive.
“If you like,” she assented, smiling at him with wileful and wilful deception. The wicked thought had occurred to her that it might be her own duty to broaden his spiritual understanding.
“Thank you,” he accepted gravely. “If you will give me an hour or so each week, I shall be very happy.”
“I am nearly always at home on Tuesday and Friday evenings,” suggested Gail. “Scarcely any one calls before eight thirty, and we have dinner quite early on those evenings.” She began to be sincerely interested in the project. She had never given herself time to quite exactly define her own attitude towards theology as distinct from religion, and she felt that she should do it, if for no other reason than to avoid making impulsive over-statements. The Reverend Smith Boyd would help her to look squarely into her own mind and her own soul, for he had a very active intelligence, and was, moreover, the most humanly forceful cleric she had ever met. Besides, they could always finish by singing.
“I shall make arrangements to be over as early as you will permit,” declared the rector, warmly aglow with the idea. “We shall begin with the very beginnings of things, and, step by step, develop, I hope, a logical justification of the vast spiritual revolution which has conquered the world.”
“I should like nothing better,” mused Gail, and since the Reverend Smith Boyd rose, and stood behind her and filled his lungs, she turned to the piano and struck a preliminary chord, which she trailed off into a tinkling little run, by way of friendly greeting to the piano.
“We shall begin with the creation,” pursued the rector, dwelling, with pleasure, on the idea of a thorough progress through the mazes of religious growth. There were certain vague points which he wanted to clear up for himself.
“And wind up with Vedder Court.” She had not meant to say that. It just popped into her mind, and popped off the end of her tongue.