Harker nodded impatiently. As Chris searched for the original station Lois said, "That's St. Matthew, isn't it?"
Chuckling, Harker said, "St. John, unless I've forgotten all my Sunday Schooling. Your father ought to hear you say a thing like that."
Lois' father had been a stern Bible-reading Presbyterian; he had never approved of Harker. The radio preacher said:
"... Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up his eyes, and said, Father, I thank thee that thou hast heard me. And I knew that thou hearest me always: but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that thou hast sent me. And when he thus had spoken, he cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth! And he that was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave-clothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus said unto them—"
"All right," Harker broke in suddenly. "You can change the station now."
Chris said, "How come you wanted to hear that, Dad?"
"It's a very famous passage." Harker smiled. "And I have a feeling we're all going to get to know it pretty well before summer comes."
After supper Sunday he packed for his trip to Washington; he took an extra change of clothes, because Thurman's secretary had warned him that the Senator was very busy and might not be able to see him until Tuesday. Harker reflected privately that that was fine treatment to accord a man who had once been virtually the titular head of the party, but complaining would have done him less than no good.
He came downstairs again after packing, and spent the next several hours watching video with the family: a silly, mindless series of programs, ideally designed to give the mind a rest.