“But they know you’re going?”
“Know I’m likely to go. It was only fair to tell them that to give them a chance to look around for a successor. I’ve been perfectly frank with Mr. Lockhart about it. He’s been skeptical all along as to my getting the call for a good while yet, but I’ve warned him over and over that it might come—just as it has come. So—I’m resigning in the morning, and getting off at night. Good way to go—isn’t it?”
“Good way for you—and a blamed poor way for some of the rest of us. See here! Oh, hang that church—what’s the matter with it? Why, my wife didn’t know this. She supposes, of course, you’re going on leave. She thinks, as I did, that the parish has got a string on you that amounts to a rope, to haul you back with. Do you mean to say—— Why, confound Sam Lockhart! I thought he was one of your best friends.”
“He is.”
“I know,” admitted Red, “you haven’t been particularly easy to get along with. You preached war when they wanted you to breathe peace, ever since you came. You’ve insisted on picturing the flowing blood over there when it made some of ’em feel ill just to hear about it. You’ve had your way about a lot of things, Bob, that they were accustomed to manage their way. I suspect you’ve been a thorn in some folks’ flesh—bless your dogged spirit! But—my faith!”—and his eyes shot fire—“to let you cut loose and go to war, without—— Why, they ought to be proud to send you. They ought to take you to the station with a brass band. They ought——”
“Oh, see here!” Black slid off the desk-edge, came over to his friend, and caught him by both shoulders. “You can’t make people over by roaring at them in my study. And much as I want to see you, and warm as you make the cockles of my heart by your roars, I’ve got to put you out and get down to work. Why, man, do you realize this changes all my plans for to-morrow in an instant? I can’t preach the thing I meant to preach—not now. I’ve had just one text in mind for my last Sunday here, whenever it should be, and I’ve got to preach on that if I stay up all night to think it out. And since it’s already——”
Red pulled out his watch. “Yes, it’s ten o’clock this minute. All right—I’ll get out. But first—lad——”
He paused. The flow of his words, which had been well started for a torrent, halted, ceased. He cleared his throat. He took his lower lip between his teeth and bit it savagely, then released it, waited a minute longer, and spoke. But—could this be Red speaking?
“Bob,” he said, “before you go—will you take me into your church?”
There was a moment’s silence, because Black’s heart simply stopped—turned over—and then went on again; and an interval of experience like that always makes speech impossible. And when he did speak all he could say was: