During the following weeks Mr. McGowan continued to grow in favor with
the people of the church and village. Every Sunday the little chapel was
crowded. His sermons, practical in thought, simple in language, and
direct in delivery, were discussed about the tables of the country folk
during Sunday dinner. The boys of the Athletic Club had received him
cordially, not only because of his athletic ability, but because he had
proved himself a good fellow. Elder Fox had strenuously opposed intimate
relationships between the club and former ministers, but he made no
attempt to interfere with Mr. McGowan, although he remained skeptical as
to the wisdom of such secular tendencies. Sim Hicks, the keeper of the
Inn, did not like the minister, and declared he would oust him from the
community if it were the last act of his life.
The one man who responded most naturally, whole-heartedly, and with
simple loyalty to the power of the young man's personality was Captain
Josiah Pott. These two became close companions, and one evening Mrs.
Eadie Beaver remarked concerning it:
"Ain't you glad I got him in with you, Josiah?"
"Cal'late I am, Eadie. I was mad at first, but it's beginning to mean a
heap to me to have him here."
"You always seemed so lonely when you'd come home, and I'd see your
light in the setting-room window. It don't seem that way now when I look
across."
"It is real nice and homelike having him in the house."
"I'm glad it's different for you," declared his next-door neighbor as
she looked about the room. "Things look real trim since the painters got
through."
The seaman's face clouded. "It took a sight more than I thought it
would, though, and it ain't going to be easy to pay back to Jim what I
borrowed to do the repairing with."
"Now, don't you go to crossing any bridges till you get to 'em. The Lord
will provide when the time comes."
"Cal'late He might, but I've always noticed that it's safer to help Him
a mite on the perviding question."
"Well, ain't you helping? You're doing the janitor work at the church,
and that helps some. And, then, you'll get a ship one of these days,
mark my word. Mr. Fox said as much to Harry just the other day."
"I ain't so sure of that, Eadie," remarked the Captain doubtfully. It
was reasonably clear to his mind that the Elder had a fish to fry in
thus starting reports of his willingness to secure a command for the
Captain, and it was also reasonably clear that sooner or later he would
catch a whiff of the frying fat which would indicate the breed of that
fish. Till then, the Captain must be content to wait.
"By the way, Josiah, have you heard that the day has been all set for
the installation service?" asked Mrs. Beaver. "Mr. Fox is arranging it,
and it's going to be a great time."
"What are they aiming to do?"
"Why, don't you know? An installation service is a meeting where all the
ministers of other towns come in and say nice things about our minister.
Elder Fox says this one will be a special one, because some one has said
that Mr. McGowan ain't sound in church doctrine, being as he graduated
from what is called a 'New Theology' school. Mr. Fox says he's going to
prove that ain't so."
"What's all that got to do with him being a man?"
"I guess it ain't got much to do with that. But you know there is a
difference between being just a man and being a real minister."
The Captain looked at her oddly. "And they're planning to change him
from one to the other, is that the idea?"
"No-o, not that exactly. But Mr. Fox thinks it would be a good time to
show all the people that Mr. McGowan is orthodox. There will be
ministers here from everywhere. The Reverend Mr. Means is coming out
from New York."
"If they're all like that feller, they'll be a hot lot."
"Josiah Pott! Haven't you any respect for the cloth?"
"Not for the kind he wears, I ain't. I'd say his cloth is a sort of
sheep's clothing, same as the Bible speaks of."
"If you can't talk decent I sha'n't stay," said Mrs. Beaver. She bridled
past him, and on into her own yard.
What Mrs. Beaver had said concerning plans for the installation service
was true. Elder Fox was carrying the full responsibility, for he wished
to make this meeting one long to be remembered. He selected with great
care those who were to sit on the council. The Reverend Mr. Means had
been chosen for two reasons, first that he was a personal friend of the
Elder, and second because his presence would add dignity to the
occasion. It was even arranged that the city clergyman should be made
moderator.
The eventful day arrived, and with it dignitaries of city and
countryside. It was a fearfully hot humid day in July, one of those days
when to move about was torment, and to work was torture. Not a breath of
air stirred. The clergymen were plainly enervated as they descended from
the various vehicles which had conveyed them over from Little River. The
Reverend Mr. Means mopped his face as the chauffeur assisted him from
the Elder's limousine. He greeted every one with deep sonorous tones.
His manner was graciously condescending, but never once familiar. He
made his way up the steps of the chapel with what was evidently meant
for a majestic stride, but his heavy frame turned it into a decided
waddle. He shook hands with a chosen few, all the while looking far
above their heads as though his vision were not of this world.
The Captain watched the clergyman till he had disappeared behind the
vestibule doors, and then remarked to Mrs. Beaver, "Them kind ain't hard
to sight. I could sight that feller a mile in the offin', on a dark
night, with my eyes shut! If Mack McGowan was that kind, he'd get to
stay here about twenty-four hours, and then he'd smell fire and
brimstone."
Mrs. Beaver surprised the seaman with a wry smile and vigorous nod.
Mr. McGowan arrived in due season under tow of the Elder. Mr. Fox led
him before the clergyman from the city, who was lounging near an open
window in the front of the auditorium.
"How do you do, Brother Fox!" boomed the deep voice of Mr. Means. "And
is this the fortunate young man who has been called to this delightful
little town?"
"Yes, this is Mr. McGowan. Mr. McGowan, this is the Reverend Mr. Means
from New York City."
The studied dignity of the visiting clergyman seemed to receive a
decided shock as he rolled up out of his chair. He stood before the
candidate to whom the Elder had introduced him and forgot to look at the
ceiling. He had been caught off his guard, and through the momentary
look of recognition there flitted across his flabby features an
expression that was far from ecclesiastical. But it was gone as quickly
as it had come, and the Reverend Mr. Means was once more his complacent
unperturbed self.
"Ho! So this is our candidate? So!" he exploded. "I am glad, Mr.
McGowan, to shake your hand, and perhaps we'd better do it now, for we
might not so desire when the grilling is over. So!" He laughed
vociferously at his rude joke, and offered his fish-like palm.
"I'm glad to see you again," lied the candidate, cheerfully.
"Again?" echoed the man, his mirth suddenly controlled by well-feigned
astonishment. "Again?"
"Have you so soon forgotten how strongly you opposed me last year when I
was up before the New York Presbytery for ordination?"
"So? Really so? Ah! Yes. I do remember, now that you call it to mind.
That probably accounts for the familiarity of your face. But I did not
oppose you for personal reasons, I assure you. It was because of your
radical theological beliefs. I do not allow personal reasons to enter
into my religious activities."
"But why should you have personal reasons for not wishing to see me
ordained?"
"Just so! Just so! I did not mean to say I had any. But, as you
doubtless remember, my brethren overruled my objections, and although I
greatly regret the theological laxity of our Presbytery, I am willing to
abide by the decision of the majority. So!"
He dismissed the two men with a wide gesture, and dropped back into his
chair. When Mr. Fox and his charge were out of sight, Mr. Means motioned
to Mr. Harry Beaver. He whispered in the little man's ear, and indicated
the groups of ministers gathered here and there about the room.
Harry Beaver had the misfortune to stutter, and in his eagerness to make
himself understood he would support himself, stork-like, on one leg, and
pump the other up and down with frantic jerks. Mr. Beaver's services
were invaluable in such cases as this when gossip was to be repeated,
for his stuttering compelled him to leave just enough unsaid to make
his news the more startling. He was seen slowly pumping his way from
group to group, and there followed in his wake the buzz of low
whisperings.
When Elder Fox later saw these signs, he was greatly perturbed. He went
directly to the Reverend Mr. Means and demanded particulars. On hearing
what the clergymen had to say, the Elder declared that this was neither
the time nor the place to air theological differences. The city
clergyman leaned forward to whisper a further explanation, but was
interrupted by Mr. Beaver, who announced that he had finished his task.
Mr. Means looked at his watch, declared it was time to open the session,
and rapped sharply for order.
Minor matters of business were quickly dispatched, and Mr.
Means--according to the prearranged plan--was duly elected moderator.
"Brethren and sisters," he roared in his most effective tones, "we now
come to the most important, and, I hope, the most delightful part of
this program. We are to be favored with a statement from the Reverend
Mr. McGowan, who is the candidate for installation as pastor of this
very beautiful church. The members of the council will be given an
opportunity to question Mr. McGowan after he has read to us his
statement. A word of caution needs to be uttered: you are to confine
your questions to theological matters as they may affect the fellowship
of the ministers and churches represented to-day by pastor and delegate.
Mr. McGowan will please come forward."
Mr. McGowan came forward in more ways than one. He concisely stated his
belief in applied Christianity, and followed with a program for future
work in the village. His short statement left the council under the
spell of an embarrassed silence. But the first question broke the
silence, and was followed by others both new and old, which were hurled
at the head of the candidate like shots from a rapid-fire gun.
Captain Pott stood the fusillade as long as his patience permitted, and
then retreated to the quiet of the out-of-doors, where he dragged a box
into the shade of the building, and lit his pipe. Here Elizabeth Fox
found him, when she, too, felt the need of a little fresh air.
"Uncle Josiah, did you ever hear anything so ridiculous? Why did you
come out here?"
"I felt sort as if I was coming up into a reg'lar twister, and thought
it would be safer to reef a mite and make for ca'm waters. My head begun
to whirl, and I cal'lated I'd best weigh anchor while my soundings was
good."
"But isn't it bad form for you to desert like this?" she asked, her big
eyes dancing mischievously.
"I ain't exactly deserting, I cal'late. If I'd been able to pitch into
that crew and shake the devil out of 'em, I'd stayed on deck. But----"
"I want you to go back with me. It's getting too funny to miss!"
"I ain't got much hankering for them officers' meeting, Beth. It makes
me feel like busting chairs on their heads."
"But you must go back! You should hear what he is saying to them.
Come!"
Before the seaman could obey the summons, Miss Edna Splinter emerged
from the rear door. She hurried toward the two. Miss Splinter was one of
those fine spinsters which one so often finds stranded in small villages
located near large cities. She was one of the few friends of the Captain
in Little River.
"It's the most disgusting thing I ever saw or heard!" declared Miss
Splinter, angrily stamping her foot.
"It's really too funny for words!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
"What in tarnation is he doing to them?"
"Doing to them!" flashed Miss Splinter indignantly. "My word! It's what
they're trying to do to him. It is positively disgraceful."
The seaman decided that a scene which could have such opposite effects
on two of his best friends must at least be interesting. He knocked the
tobacco from his pipe and followed them inside. As he listened, his
interest grew, not so much in the ecclesiastical storm of big words, as
in the wildly gesticulating clergymen. The moderator had risen and was
rapping loudly for order.
"Brethren!" he thundered. "It is time that we recognize some of our
laymen. I see Mr. Harry Beaver of this church asking for the floor. Mr.
Beaver may speak."
"M-Mr. Ch-chairman, does M-Mr. Mc-McGowan b-believe in e-ev----"
The unfortunate man blinked, backed, pumped, emitted a series of hissing
sounds like escaping steam, but remained hopelessly stuck. Those round
him dodged his foot gestures, and smiled appreciatively, while those not
engaged in trying to escape mutilation of corns, encouragingly suggested
words such as everlasting, everpresent, etc., which might have bearing
on the subject previously under discussion. The little man spurned them
all with vigorous backings and increased hissings. At last, between a
discouraged hiss and a triumphant sputter, the awful word rolled out.
"Evolution!" he shouted, and sat down.
After the laughter had subsided, the moderator demanded that the
candidate answer the question.
"Yes, Mr. Moderator."
Mr. Means was on his feet in an incredibly short time for one so bulky.
"Then, you deny here in the face of these wise men, as you did before
your superiors in the New York Presbytery, the creation story of the
Bible?"
"I did not deny it then, and I do not deny it now."
"Brethren, we have the right to an explanation from our young brother. I
was denied that privilege at the time of his ordination. But I consider
his contradictory statements so serious a thing that I shall give you
the opportunity that was denied me."
Elder Fox, plainly nettled by the turn affairs had taken, rose and
demanded the floor.
"Brother Fox!" vociferously acknowledged the moderator.
"We have no right to carry this senseless discussion further. There has
not yet been sounded--er--the note of fellowship that should prevail
among the brethren," declared the Elder, eyeing the chairman. Very
gently stroking his side-whiskers, he continued: "We have sprung at our
young friend--er--as if he were before a jury, condemned and found
guilty of a felony. Why should we trouble him about things that are not
fundamental to our faith?"
Captain Pott muttered something under his breath. Never before had he
known of the Elder and the city minister disagreeing.
"That is the very question," expostulated the moderator. "Mr. McGowan
has attacked every sacred doctrine of the church, for he has said what
is equivalent to the statement that my ancestors were monkeys. What
other interpretation can be given to the doctrine of evolution? If it
does not contradict every sacred belief of our past, then I am no
theologian."
The old seaman chuckled, and several shocked faces were turned in his
direction.
"Perhaps it would help if Mr. McGowan would tell us just what he does
believe in regard to the book of Genesis," suggested Mr. Fox.
"It is the story of human redemption."
With a nod of satisfied approval, the Elder sat down, and the moderator
crumpled up.
Captain Pott irreverently observed to Elizabeth: "I cal'late that there
Means is left for once with his sails flopping, without no idea as to
what his longitude is."
A little wizened-looking man smiled cordially and addressed the chair,
but the "chair" seemed oblivious to all about him.
"Should not the ministry of to-day place greater emphasis on the
philosophy of life than upon time-worn theology that has come to us from
the middle ages?" asked the man.
"We should preach both where they affect life; neither where they do
not," was the quick response.
"I am an instructor in philosophy in the high school over at Marble
Point, and I was led by your last reply concerning your belief in the
book of Genesis to believe you are somewhat of a philosopher. Do you not
think that philosophy will touch life more quickly than theology?"
"Religion is something that has outgrown both the classroom and the
cloister. It is the anonymous religion that we must take into account in
the future if the church is to progress with the needs of men."
It was the voice of the Captain who broke the silence of surprise which
followed the unusual statement.
"I want to know!" came the seaman's exclamation in a hoarse stage
whisper.
Every face in the room seemed to register the same question. Mr. McGowan
smiled and explained.
"By anonymous religion I mean every ideal striving for the right and
truth, wherever it is found, and by whatever name it may be known. It
may be found outside the church as readily as within it. Wherever good
is found, the church should make use of it, whether it is counted
orthodox or not."
First one, and then another, was on his feet, till the moderator was
powerless to moderate. Some exclaimed for, and others declaimed against,
the candidate. Still others fired broadside after broadside into all
present.
"It ain't much like a heavenly craft, that there ark, now, is it?"
queried the Captain of his two friends. "Smells more like brimstone
round these parts than it does like heavenly ozone."
Mr. Fox assumed command, and under his steady hand and head the
spiritual elements began slowly to calm.
"In all my life," he lamented, "I have never seen such proceedings in
the house of God. The parish committee arranged this meeting--er--for
the purpose of fellowship, and you have seen fit to make of it child's
play. It is time for us to recognize that Mr. McGowan is big enough, and
broad enough, to supply the needs of a community like this. The very
fact that he has not satisfied each of your unreasonable demands is
evidence that he is competent to meet all of them, if we give him time.
I make the motion--er,--Mr. Moderator, that we proceed with the
installation of the candidate without further delay or discussion."
The motion was seconded, and put to a vote. There were only a few who
had the temerity to register themselves as negative in the face of what
the leading layman had said. Elder Fox suggested that the vote be made
unanimous.
"Brethren," protested the Reverend Mr. Means, slowly rising from the
depths of the easy chair, "before that vote is taken to make the will
of this council unanimous, I wish to have it fully understood that I am
opposed, bitterly opposed, to the calling of unorthodox men to our
pulpits. It is atrocious, and I shall wash my hands of the whole affair.
I regret very much that our beloved Brother Fox has forced me to
disagree with him, and if he is of the same opinion still, I shall have
to ask him to take the chair while the vote he has called for is being
registered."
Mr. Fox took the chair, and the motion passed without one dissenting
voice. Adjournment to the kitchen parlors followed, and when that vote
was taken the voice of him who had washed his hands of the action of the
council was heard booming an affirmative near the Captain's ear.
The bounteous provisions warmed heart and stomach, and that fact,
together with some persuasion from Elder Fox, led the city minister to
the decision that he would lose nothing if he remained to deliver his
prepared address. And he did himself proudly. Even Captain Pott could
find no fault with the impassioned words of the speaker. He was heard
to remark, however, "Them there things he said wa'n't what was inside by
a damn sight, but just smeared on like honey."
It was late that night when the Captain reached home after closing the
church building. The minister was in his study, and the old man tapped
lightly on the door.
"Won't be disturbing your peaceful meditations about that meeting if I
come in for a spell, will I?"
Assured he would not, he entered. He took a chair on the opposite side
of the table and drew out his pipe.
"There ain't no wind so fierce that it don't blow you some good," he
philosophized, as with deliberation he scratched a match on his
trouser-leg. "I'd never hoped to see Jim Fox stand up to that city
feller the way he did."
"What did you think of the whole thing, anyway, Cap'n?"
"Well, so far as I could get the drift, I'd think that there theology
stuff would be purty dry picking. But it was mighty interesting the way
you met up with 'em at every p'int. I was real 'feared that Jim Fox
would get aboard their band-wagon when he see the way things was going
against you."
The minister nodded.
"And the way the Means feller washed his hands! Wa'n't that good as a
show, and then getting up and preaching like Gabriel afterward? Mack,
you ain't got no idea what he made me think of, have you?"
"Not in the least. What?"
"I heard a preacher tell a yarn once about a pilot washing his hands in
hell. It struck me queer about there being a river in hell. If it's as
hot down there as I've heard it described, you'd think the surroundings
would sizzle her up. But that's what the preacher said about this pilot,
whose last name I rec'lect was Pontyhouse. His stay was to be purty
tolerable long with his Satanic majesty. I've always felt sorry for that
chap, seemed kind of lonely, but as I figger it out he's going to have
company one of these hot days."
Mr. McGowan looked up.
"You just bet he is. I knew that Means chap afore he took to religion,
and if he's slated for heavenly bliss I'm going to put in my papers for
the other place, alongside the scrubbing pilot."
"You mean----"
"I mean that one of us is going to keep that feller company in hell.
Beyond that you'll have to guess," said the Captain, rising. "Only don't
you tie too tight to Means, that's all. Good night, I'm going to turn
in."
"All right, Cap'n, I'll promise," replied Mr. McGowan, smiling
appreciatively.
"You'd best go to bed, too, Mack. You're mighty tired."
But the minister did not follow his friend's advice about retiring. He
sat at his desk. The angry men of the afternoon slowly faded from his
thoughts, and into the center of his consciousness came the vision of
the loveliest face he had ever seen. He recalled the words of frank
approval with which Miss Fox had met him after the evening service, and
the cordial manner she had shown. Not that he was in love with one of
the members of his church. That would never do. But there was something
different about the Elder's daughter, something which appealed to his
sense of the beautiful. This, he told himself, he could enjoy without
overstepping the conventions.
The next day he was to dine at the Fox home.