f-date--but there he is, a great, noble,
beautiful soul, with a sense of integrity and independence that is
stunning!"

"What has Allan been saying now?" asked Aunt Bell, curiously unmoved.

"_Said?_ It's what he's _doing!_ The dear, big, stupid thing is going
down there to preach the very first Sunday about Dives and Lazarus--the
poor beggar in Abraham's bosom and the rich man down below, you
remember?" she added, as Aunt Bell seemed still to hover about the
centre of psychic repose.

"Well?"

"Well, think of preaching that primitive doctrine to _any one_ in this
age--then think of a young minister talking it to a church of rich men
and expecting to receive a call from them!"

Aunt Bell surveyed the plump and dimpled whiteness of her small hands
with more than her usual studious complacence. "My dear," she said at
last, "no one has a greater admiration for Allan than I have--but I've
observed that he usually knows what he's about."

"Indeed, he knows what he's about now, Aunt Bell!" There was a swift
little warmth in her tones--"but he says he can't do otherwise. He's
going deliberately to spoil his chances for a call to St. Antipas by a
piece of mere early-Christian quixotism. And you must see how _great_ he
is, Aunt Bell. Do you know--there have been times when I've misjudged
Allan. I didn't know his simple genuineness. He wants that church, yet
he will not, as so many in his place would do, make the least concession
to its people."

Aunt Bell now brought a coldly critical scrutiny to bear upon one small
foot which she thrust absently out until its profile could be seen.

"Perhaps he will have his reward," she said. "Although it is many years
since I broadened into what I may call the higher unbelief, I have never
once suspected, my dear, that merit fails of its reward. And above all,
I have faith in Allan, in his--well, his psychic nature is so perfectly
attuned with the Universal that Allan simply _cannot_ harm himself. Even
when he seems deliberately to invite misfortune, fortune comes instead.
So cheer up, and above all, practise going into the silence and holding
the thought of success for him. I think Allan will attend very
acceptably to the mere details."

CHAPTER VI

THE WALLS OF ST. ANTIPAS FALL AT THE THIRD BLAST

On that dreaded morning a few weeks later, when the young minister faced
a thronged St. Antipas at eleven o'clock service, his wife looked up at
him from Aunt Bell's side in