"Well, Griff, lad, I was drunk the night before last."
"Not quite that, old fellow; a bit bothered by the road, that's all; it's not an easy path through Hazel Dene."
"I was drunk, I tell you. Yes, and I was mortal sick in the night, Griff. But it wasn't the sickness of the carnal body I cared for; the trouble went deeper than that."
"Your head was bad the next morning?" queried Griff, innocently.
"Man, yes! But it's not that I mean. Think of the sin: think of a preacher of God's word showing himself no more than a cutting from the old stock." This was Gabriel's unconquerable pride coming out; he was humble in theory only.
"When you've understood that a little better," said the other gravely, "you'll be fit to preach. Good-bye, old chap; just ponder on that for a while. When are you coming for another ride?"
The preacher looked through and beyond his friend.
"I never thought to come to this. Let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall. Look here," he broke off, with a sudden flash of fury, "they say that the Lord looks after His own. Well, I don't believe it. Why did He bring that girl across my path?"
"To make a man of you," said Griff, and vanished.