“That point about praying came up,” Mr. King was saying, “and I am not satisfied with the answer I gave. The man gave his experience—it was an experience of years—and then he asked me what was the matter with his prayer, and I decidedly did not know. I know he has fulfilled the conditions, praying in faith, and in the name of Christ, and the thing prayed for was innocent in itself. He said, ‘What is the matter with me?’ and I could not tell. He went away unsatisfied. I went down on my knees, you may be sure, thinking something was the matter with me because I had no illumination for him.”
Roger’s strong, brown hand was stretched along the arm of his chair; he looked down at his fingers in deep thought.
“He said he had been praying months to learn if the petition in itself were not acceptable to God, and had, he thought, studied a hundred prayers in the Bible, comparing his prayer with the acceptable and unacceptable prayers of the old saints.”
“He is determined to get at the bottom of it,” said Roger.
“I never saw a man more determined. I quoted Phillips Brooks to him: ‘You have not got your answer, but you have got God.’”
“He was not satisfied with that getting?”
“No. He said he knew he should not be satisfied until he had God’s answer to himself. I think he has almost lost sight of the thing he was anxious for when he began to pray. It has been worth a course in theology to him.”
Marion dropped her silks; Judith was listening with all the eagerness of her childhood. She felt sure Aunt Affy could explain the difficulty.
“The thing that strikes me,” began Roger, “is that he may be like those men sent to the house of God to inquire about fasting.”
“Well?” questioned Richard King.