“Well, maybe you’re right. Now if you’ll give me the two hundred bucks, I’ll see these birds are out of town tonight, and maybe I’ll give ’em some of the two hundred.”
“Maybe!” said Mr. Rigg.
“Maybe!” said Mr. Silverhorn.
“God!” cried Elmer Gantry, and suddenly he was disgracing himself with tears.
That was Saturday morning.
IV
The afternoon papers had front-page stories reproducing Hettie’s confession, joyfully announcing Elmer’s innocence, recounting his labors for purity, and assaulting the booze interests which had bribed this poor, weak, silly girl to attack Elmer.
Before eight on Sunday morning, telegrams had come in from the Yorkville Methodist Church and the Napap, congratulating Elmer, asserting that they had never doubted his innocence, and offering him the pastorate of Yorkville and the executive secretaryship of the Napap.
V
When the papers had first made charges against Elmer, Cleo had said furiously, “Oh, what a wicked, wicked lie—darling, you know I’ll stand back of you!” but his mother had crackled, “Just how much of this is true, Elmy? I’m getting kind of sick and tired of your carryings on!”