“Do YOU believe it?” He turned upon the little man at his side! “Do you believe it, Elverson?”
Elverson had been so accustomed to Strong monopolising the conversation, that he had become hopelessly lost as the discussion went on, and the sudden appeal to him all but paralysed his power of speech. He was still gurgling and sputtering when Strong interrupted, impatiently.
“It makes no difference whether we believe it or not. We're going to do our duty by the church, and that girl must leave or——”
“Or I must.” Douglas pieced out Strong's phrase for himself. “That threat doesn't frighten me at all, deacon. After what you have said, I should refuse to remain in this church”—the deacon stepped forward eagerly—“were it not that I realise more than ever before how much you need me, how much you ignorant, narrow-minded creatures need to be taught the meaning of true Christianity.” The deacon was plainly disappointed.
“Is it possible?” gasped Elverson, weakly.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” asked Strong, when he could trust himself to speak again.
“I shall do what is best for Miss Polly,” said the pastor quietly but firmly.
He turned away to show that the interview was at an end. Strong followed him. Douglas pointed to the gate with a meaning not to be mistaken. “Good afternoon, deacon.”
Strong hesitated. He looked at the pastor, then at the gate, then at the pastor again. “I'll go,” he shouted; “but it ain't the end!” He slammed the gate behind him.
“Quite so, quite so,” chirped Elverson, not having the slightest idea of what he was saying. He saw the frigid expression on the pastor's face, he coughed behind his hat, and followed Strong.