“It's bringing a crazy girl to her senses. She's said if I fetched her a single hair of his she'd renounce him.”
“Oh!” Redfield said with respectful understanding. Then he added, “I'll get you the hair.”
The unbelievers crowded to the house in the light from the uncurtained windows. One of them stood tiptoe peering in while the others waited. “It's chuck full,” he reported. “No room for sinners, I reckon.”
“Oh, if Dylks is in there he'll work one of his miracles and make room,” another of the Hounds answered. Redfield stood trying the door. “Locked? Hammer on it! Break it in! Here! Give him a shoulder!”
The mob surged forward, laughing and shouting, and crushed Redfield against the door. The panel cracked and groaned; Redfield called to the crowd to hold back, but suddenly the door opened, and the fanatical face of Enraghty showed itself above Redfield's back.
“What do you want?” he demanded. “This is the Lord's house.”
“Then it's as much ourn as what it is yourn,” some one shouted back.
“We want to see the Lord,” another called. “Just one look, just one lick.”
The old schoolmaster lost his self-control. “There are some of you out there that I've licked before now for your mischief.”
“Yes, we know that,” came back. “You didn't lick us enough. We'd like to have you give us some more.”