ges.

"I don't see the use of fussing about it," proclaimed Laureston Grey, who
was the richest and sprucest of the three sons-in-law. "Why can't we let
well enough alone?"

"Because it isn't well enough," Evelyn replied. "I want the real thing
or nothing. I go to church once a month, to please mother. It doesn't
do me any good. And I don't see what good it does you and Lucy to go
every Sunday. You never think of it when you're out at dinners and
dances during the week. And besides," she added, with the arrogance of
modern youth, "you and Lucy are both intellectually lazy."

"I like that from you, Evelyn," her sister flared up.

"You never read anything except the sporting columns and the annual rules
of tennis and golf and polo."

"Must everything be reduced to terms?" Mrs. Waring gently lamented.
"Why can't we, as Laury suggests, just continue to trust?"

"They are the more fortunate, perhaps, who can, mother," George Bridges
answered, with more of feeling in his voice than he was wont to show.
"Unhappily, truth does not come that way. If Roger Bacon and Galileo and
Newton and Darwin and Harvey and the others had 'just trusted,' the
world's knowledge would still remain as stationary as it was during the
thousand-odd years the hierarchy of the Church was supreme, when theology
was history, philosophy, and science rolled into one. If God had not
meant man to know something of his origin differing from the account in
Genesis, he would not have given us Darwin and his successors.
Practically every great discovery since the Revival we owe to men who,
by their very desire for truth, were forced into opposition to the
tremendous power of the Church, which always insisted that people should
'just trust,' and take the mixture of cosmogony and Greek philosophy,
tradition and fable, paganism, Judaic sacerdotalism, and temporal power
wrongly called spiritual dealt out by this same Church as the last word
on science, philosophy, history, metaphysics, and government."

"Stop!" cried Eleanor. "You make me dizzy."

"Nearly all the pioneers to whom we owe our age of comparative
enlightenment were heretics," George persisted. "And if they could have
been headed off, or burned, most of us would still be living in mud caves
at the foot of the cliff on which stood the nobleman's castle; and kings
would still be kings by divine decree, scientists--if there were any
--workers in the black art, and every phenomenon we failed to under