“I want to get rid of a horrible stiffness that is creeping over our meeting. We have been thawed, but not sufficiently; that is—well, Marion, the prayer-meeting doesn’t and never did, meet my ideal. It is not social enough—friendly and familiar enough. I would like to have it a place where we meet together to talk over religious subjects, in exactly the same way that we talk of other matters of interest. I would like, for instance, to ask you as to your opinion of a passage of Scripture, or a hymn; and I should like you to answer as freely as you would if we were sitting with other friends in—say your parlor, for instance.”
The emphasis in this latter sentence brought a vivid blush to Marion’s face, and a little exclamation, not exactly of dismay:
“I think you are in a very startling mood. What would your good pillars in the church say to such innovations, do you suppose? It takes my breath away even to think of such a thing! I would almost as soon arise in the desk, and undertake to preach a sermon.”
“Which is a very different thing,” Dr. Dennis said, stoutly. “But, now, just look at it, Marion. Isn’t that the reasonable way to do? Imagine a party of us meeting to discuss a prospective journey to Europe, or to the Holy Land; and, supposing me to be the leader, imagine all the ladies sitting perfectly mum, and the gentlemen only speaking when I called them by name, as if, instead of a social meeting, where all the people were on the same level, it was a catechetical class, met for examination, with myself for examiner! I don’t believe we have the true idea of prayer-meetings.”
“Perhaps not. But, if I should suddenly say to you, when we are fairly seated in the chapel, ‘Dr. Dennis, what do you think is the meaning of the sentence—Called to be saints?’ what would you think?”
“I should be delighted—positively delighted; and I should proceed to answer you as well as I could; and should like to say, ‘Judge Erskine, isn’t that your idea?’ or, ‘Mrs. Chester, what do you think about it?’ and thus from one to another, freely, familiarly as we would if we were gathered to converse about anything else that was worthy of our attention. That is my idea of a social prayer-meeting.”
“Well,” said Marion, “I don’t believe you will ever realize your idea. For myself, I should just as soon think of attempting to fly. The minute you get seated behind that great walnut box, with those solemn-looking cushions towering before you, I feel as far removed from you as though miles of space divided us.”
“That is just it,” Dr. Dennis said, growing eager. “I tell you, this sense of distance and dignity, and unwise solemnity, are all wrong. The barriers ought to be broken down. How I wish, Marion, that you felt it in your heart to help me. I wish you would open your mouth in that meeting to-night. It would do you and me, and everybody good. We should have made a beginning toward getting nearer to the people. I don’t mean anything formidable, you know. Suppose you should just recite a verse of Scripture—something appropriate to the subject before us? I don’t believe you have an idea of the effect it would have.”
“Oh, yes I have,” Marion said, with an emphatic nod of her head. “I can realize that the effect would be tremendous. I don’t believe you have the slightest idea of it! What effect will it have, if you and I reach the meeting ten minutes past the time?”
Whereupon they went to church. Of course Marion was interested in Susan Erskine’s verse, and Susan Erskine’s comments; not so interested that she felt moved to join her, and contribute of her experience to that meeting—such things need thinking about and praying over—but so interested that her face flushed at the thought that this girl, who was from the country, had more moral courage than she, and was in sympathy with Dr. Dennis’ advanced ideas in regard to prayer-meetings.