"Well," said the other, "let's have a drink before you start."
"I don't care," and he beckoned to the bartender.
"Small bottle, a Schlitz," he said, and turned to Baptiste.
"Make it two," said the other, and turned to hear the story the other had to tell.
"It happened fifteen years ago," began Speed when their beer had been served. "I was a preacher then.—Hold on," he broke off at the expression on Baptiste's face.
"Yes, of course you can hardly believe it; but I was then a preacher. I was the pastor of the church in a little town, and I won't tell the name of the town; but it's all the same, I was a preacher and pastor of this church. I had not been long ordained, and was ambitious to succeed as a minister. The charge had not been long created, and was, of course, not much of a place for money. But it so happened that a quarry was opened about the time I was sent there and it brought some hundred and fifty Negro families to live in the town, and in almost a twinkling, my charge became from among the poorest, to one of the best from a financial point of view. The men worked steadily and were paid well, and their families found quite a bit of work to do among the wealthy whites of the town.
"There were two young ladies living a few doors from where I preached, girls who made their own living, honestly, nice, clean girls, and I was much impressed with them. I sought, and finally succeeded in getting them interested in the church, and later began keeping company with one. Now here is where your folks come in. The Reverend McCarthy—old Mac, I called him, was filling the same line he now is, Presiding Elder, and this church was in his itinerary. I was therefore under his recommendation. He had been visiting the church regularly, holding his quarterly conference every three months, and getting his little bit. It was shortly after I had started going with this young lady that McCarthy got awful nice and treated me so good until I became suspicious. Then one day it came out.
"'By the way, Speed,' he said. 'Who're those girls living near the church?' I knew who he was referring to because I had seen him trying to smile on them the day before which had been a Sunday. But I pretends I don't know what or who he's talking about.
"'Who?' I inquired as innocent as a lamb.
"'Oh, those two girls living near the church,' and he called their names.