“One of our tenets reads this way,” and Mrs. Geyser assumed a tone of voice most serious, as if she were uttering a revelation of mystery never before vouchsafed to ordinary mortals. “We acknowledge the way of salvation to be the power of truth over all error, sin, sickness and death, and the resurrection of human faith and understanding to seize the great possibilities, yes, possibilities, and living energies of divine life.”
Mrs. Cultus drew a long breath. “Oh, dear, tenets are awful things; so complicated! May I ask what becomes of the simplicity of the gospel?”
Adele became very attentive while Mrs. Geyser was speaking. There was something in it which appealed to her as very true, yet that word “possibilities,” it was so easy to stretch it into the impossible and unreasonable.
“Please give us a simple tenet,” asked Mrs. Cultus, now the placid speaker.
“There is nothing easier, it’s as easy as reading a book. We have keys of our own—you must use our keys—our own book to both science and health.”
Frank Winchester gave a start, as if struck by an idea. “Keys! those everlasting keys! There must be two sets!”
“Three, my dear, three! I remember them well,” said Mrs. Cultus, her memory also startled into activity. “I knew St. Peter by reputation only, but Louis also had keys. I remember Louis XVI of France very well, when I was at school. He was a locksmith also, and made Bourbon keys for the government. Poor man! he lost both his keys and his head. Why, Mrs. Geyser, I’m astonished! Don’t you know the religious-government-locksmith-business is entirely obsolete?”
“In both science and religion,” mused Adele, while her mother still kept the floor.
“Why, St. Peter himself said his keys were worn out. He told the whole world he couldn’t lock the door on those Philippine friars, when they had been caught interfering with the Government.”
“Don’t mix politics and religion with metaphysics!” exclaimed Adele, greatly amused, but beginning to feel interested in the serio-comic discussion. “Please don’t—it’s bad form.”