"Are they really so informal?"
"Yes, indeed; Primitive with a capital P. But I don't suppose you ever do such a thing as wash?"
"I must confess my ignorance in that line," returned Venna.
Mr. Soffy smiled understandingly. "I hope you will come out to our little Church sometimes?"
"Yes, I told Bessie I would divide my attentions between the two Churches."
"You have no choice then between the Methodist and the Presbyterian?"
"Hardly; I can't honestly say I have found any Church to satisfy me yet. Every denomination has so many inconsistencies. I love my Bible, and it doesn't seem to me that any of you fully follow Christ's teachings."
"To be frank with you," returned Mr. Soffy, contracting his brows thoughtfully, "I don't think any of us do. The Churches have accumulated the errors of ages. I wish personally we could throw off a lot of waste material. But the people have to be dealt with gradually. It's like operating on a diseased body. One part must be cut at a time or the patient would lose his life from shock."
"I can't agree with you," returned Venna earnestly. "Why should you preach error and intensify the disease?"
"Well—no—maybe not," returned Mr. Soffy with hesitation. "I never thought of it in just that light. It's very hard to know how to handle a congregation of church-goers today. They are full of prejudice, 'mother told me so' doctrines, and unless something new is startlingly attractive, out goes the preacher if he dares to introduce it. What would you do?" he asked with a look of open admiration.