The large, suave figure of the Universalist minister,
in grey alpaca coat and black trousers, approached
leisurely over the street, and stopped before
Gordon. The minister had a conspicuously
well-fed paunch, his smooth face expressed placid
self-approval, his tones never for a moment lost the
unctuous echo of the pulpiteer.

"You have not worshipped with us lately," he observed.
"Remiss, remiss. Our services have been
stirring -- three souls redeemed from everlasting torment
at the Wednesday meeting, two adults and a
child sealed to Christ on Sunday."

"I'll drop in," Gordon told him pacifically.

"A casual phrase to apply to the Mansion of the
Son," the minister observed, "more humility would
become you... God, I pray Thee that Thy fire
descend upon this unhappy man and consume utterly
away his carnal envelope. What are you doing?"
he demanded abruptly of Gordon.

"Nothing particular just now."

"There are some small occupations about the
parsonage -- a board or so loose on the ice house,
a small field of provender for the animal. Let us
say a week's employment for a ready man. I could
pay but a modest stipend... but the privilege of
my home, the close communion with our Maker.
You would be as my brother: what do you say?"

Gordon was well aware of the probable extent

[[128]]

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v?