She straightened up then, and faced him.
“I don’t want to be rude to you,” she replied. “I have nothing against you. I’ve heard that you are well-intentioned toward men and women who work. But I have little use for preachers. They are hired by the rich, they associate with the rich, they are under the control of the rich. They have nothing in common with the class to which I belong, therefore they cannot help us. I am sure you can do no good, either to my husband or to me. I’d rather you wouldn’t come.”
She turned again to her husband and began to tuck in the plaid robe that covered his lap. The clergyman stood, startled and speechless. This was the first time in his life that he had been arraigned in this manner. After a moment, however, he gathered his thoughts sufficiently to say:
“I think you misjudge us, Mrs. Bradley. I know you misjudge me. It is my effort to do the Master’s will among all His people, rich or poor, humble or exalted.”
“Yes, that’s what they all say. But they do discriminate, and I don’t see how they can help it, and hold their jobs. No, I’d rather you wouldn’t come. I don’t want to see you.”
“I hope this is not your final answer.”
“It is my final answer.”
But the tone of her voice was not unkind as she said it, and in her eyes there was no look of hostility.
“Nevertheless,” he replied, “I shall not lose sight of you. I shall keep you in mind, and—I shall pray for you.”
She laughed a little at that.