university had done for him, they sent him to Boston, under the
impression that the Puritan American city might correct some of his
materialism."

Caleb smiled. "That ain't just the way we think of Boston over here," he
remarked.

"No; and, of course, Bauer didn't change his point of view. We used to
have it up hill and down. I had Scripture--mother and the Beershebans
had taught me that--and Bauer had immense reading, flinty Dutch common
sense, and a huge lack of the reverence for the so-called sacred
subjects which seems to be ingrained in every race but the Teutonic. I
fought hard, both for mother's sake and because it was the first time I
had ever met a man with his sword out on the other side."

"Well?" said Caleb.

"He downed me, horse, foot and artillery; made me realize as I never had
before what an absolute begging of the premises the entire Christian
argument is."

"But how?" persisted the iron-master.

"Held me up at the muzzle of the cold facts. For example: do you happen
to know that the oldest Bible manuscripts in existence go back only to
the fourth century, and are doubtless copies of copies of copies?"

The father had pushed back his chair and was trying to fold his napkin
in the original creases.

"No; there's a heap o' things I don't know, son, but I'm willin' to
learn. One o' these days, if we ever get out o' this business tangle
alive, we'll sit down quiet together and you'll do for me what this
Dutchman has done for you. For, in spite of what you say, I've been
sittin' on the fence all these years, and I reckon you're the one to
help me down."

Tom smiled first at the thought of it and then grew suddenly sober. It
is one thing to be serenely critical for oneself, and quite another to
set the pace for a disciple. And when that disciple chances to be one's
father?

"I don't know about that, pappy," he said, rather dubiously. "I'd like
to have you meet some of the people on my side of the road first. Maybe
you wouldn't like the company."

But Caleb would not have it so. "If they're good enough for you, son,
they're good enough for me," he said. "Not but what there's some mighty
good folks trampin' along on the other side, too."

"Yes, and some mighty bad ones," said Tom, thinking of the promoter
vestryman of St. Michael's and his Bible-class-teaching son. "We are
going right now to investigate the financiering methods of a pair of
them. Is Dyckman still on duty? Or are the offices cl