"I liked it? Indeed, and when would that be?"
"Well, you stopped kicking, anyway, until we got the big one, which was clean unreasonable, whatefer."
"No, sir." Mr. McPherson's spectacle case tapped the younger man's arm peremptorily. "I was perfectly logical then, as I am now. I objected when the wee squeaking thing was brought in, and I objected more when you and the weemin filled up the end o' the church with a machine to turn us all deef. As I say, I was perfectly logical, the greater the organ, the greater the objection."
J. P. hid a smile in the darkness and hastened to interpose, for when Jock once got riding his objection hobby he would agree with nothing under the sun.
"There's an article in the British Weekly on the evolution of the church service—" he began; but his impetuous friend was bent on setting Jock right in his own way, and hastened to his destruction.
"And on the same principle, the more Amen, the more objection, eh?" he cried laughingly. "But now, look here, if you'll only consider this thing with a fair mind you can't help seeing that, as J. P. says, a hymn or a psalm sounds unfinished without an Amen at the end. Take any hymn for example—"
They had reached the McPherson gate by this time, where an arc light, high up in its leafy perch, was sputtering away shedding a white glow over the side-walk and embroidering it with an exquisite pattern worked out in leaf-shadows. Lawyer Ed paused under the lamp and opened the Book of Praise.
"I defy you to find one that isn't improved and finished and rounded off by an Amen at the end." He selected a hymn at random, and sang a stanza in his rich voice that poured itself out gloriously on the evening air.
"Faith and hope and love we see
Joining hands in unity,
But the greatest of the three
And the best is love. Amen."
The beautiful words, sung in Lawyer Ed's melodious voice, were enough to move even Jock's orthodox heart. He was silent for a moment, then the noise of a window being raised above their heads interrupted.