“Well, now, do you think that was a square deal?”
“No, frankly, I do not.”
The man, he was evidently a laborer, reached out a hard hand and grasped the hand of the rector.
“You’re all right!” he exclaimed. “But you’re the first preacher I ever heard say as much as that. Most of ’em side the other way; or else they hedge, and won’t say nothin’. Where do you preach?”
“At Christ Church.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about you. I don’t go to church much myself, but I’m comin’ some Sunday to hear you preach. They say you ain’t a bit afraid to give the devil his due, so far as the rich is concerned.”
“I try to preach a straight gospel, whether it affects the rich or the poor.”
“That’s right. If more of ’em would do that the laborin’ men might git their rights some day, and a little religion besides.”
“You think more of them would come to church?”
“Sure they would. All they want is to have the Church take as much account of the poor as it does of the rich. I’m comin’ to hear you preach though, anyway; and I’ll bring some of the boys along. Good-bye! I’m goin’ up the hill now, with the funeral.”