it
necessary to burn human flesh in this modern age? Would it not do quite
as well to set fire to a cage of black cats? Surely the burning of cats
would create a stench that would smell to high heaven."

"Tut, tut," sniffed the Clerical Collar.

Then the Venerable Beard spoke up nobly. "The red hand of heresy
grapples white faith by the throat. What is the use of all our
theological blue laws if the black heart of atheism continues to control
our yellow press?"

"Softly, softly, Brother," the Threadbare Coat made answer; "It is not
charitable, neither is it wise, to bite the hand that feeds the press."

"Do not worry," replied the Vest with the Silver Horseshoes. "I never
let my theological hand know what my secular hand doeth. Let us proceed
to business. The burning of any heretic is good for a headline."

The Spectacles of the Student now arose in righteous indignation,
pointed a finger of contempt at the Vest with the Silver Horseshoes and
cried: "Do not tell me that you merely wish to burn a heretic to make
news for your paper. I know why you are a fundamentalist. You have a
monopoly on the oil!"

"Young man, you betray your ignorance," spake the Clerical Collar. "The
church has its own oil reserves."

"But we should save the oil to pour on troubled waters," suggested the
Threadbare Coat; "and that we could do if we had an obese heretic who
would burn in his own fat."

The Vest with the Silver Horseshoes became self-conscious. "There is no
necessity of my being the martyr," he said. "I am already known to the
masses. Moreover a heretic, to burn brilliantly, must have ideas, not
mere fat."

A look of great fear now came into the Spectacles of the Student, who
cried out: "You all assume because you see a light in my attic that I am
burning the midnight candle at both ends in search of ideas; but I tell
you it is the light of faith that shines from my window."

"What use is a false faith?" retorted the Clerical Collar. "I know that
my faith alone is the true faith, because my mother told me it was so.
But I will reveal the heretic to you." And he pointed an accusing finger
at the Venerable Beard.

"If you have no respect for my grey hairs," wailed the accused, "I will
pluck them out." And he seized his beard and tore it from his face.

"Do not think, brother," replied the Clerical Collar, "that by doing
penance with self-torture, you can avoid the stake. Moreover you should
feel honored at my charge, for