"Oh, Hubert," groaned his father, "don't say that."
"I don't mean," said Hubert quickly, "that Jesus is a sham. I believe," and his deep eyes softened, "that He is the most real fact in the universe. But the belief of those people, father! That sort of gathering is what Doctor Schoolman calls 'relaxation,' and I think he is right. I am convinced that Christ is irksome to them; a subject to be endured on Sundays, but to enjoy relaxation from at other times. Am I right?"
"Hubert," said Mr. Gray, slowly, "I believe you are partly right. But be deliberate and generous in your conclusions. Do not judge us too hastily or hotly."
Hubert winced as his father included himself in his own sweeping indictment. Mr. Gray went on:
"Some of us have known Him, even as you do, in earlier days. But we have lost the brightness of our vision through"—he hesitated—"through sin. We have followed afar off, and are very poor representatives now. Be patient, and it may be the warm zeal of such as you will quicken us again."
He looked at his son appealingly. Hubert's generous heart melted.
"Forgive me, father," he said humbly. "I have no right to judge anybody. Forget my tirade if you can. And I," he added with a faint smile, "will try to forget the Social."
CHAPTER XI
MR. BOND'S LECTURE
Hubert recovered from the cold bath into which he had been thrown like a Spartan babe by his first contact with church sociability. His, as a new creature, was a vigorous constitution, and was destined to out-live many a shock incident to the earthly career of a heaven-born man. Both he and Winifred returned to their joy and calm, and were looking forward eagerly to Mr. Bond's lectures.