by the struggle. He did not conceal his opinion that the church was
meddling with matters quite outside its sphere. Never had it been
conveyed to the bishop before how remote a rich and established
Englishman could consider the church from reality.

"You've got no hold on them," he said. "It isn't your sphere."

And again: "They'll listen to you--if you speak well. But they don't
believe you know anything about it, and they don't trust your good
intentions. They won't mind a bit what you say unless you drop something
they can use against us."

The bishop tried a few phrases. He thought there might be something in
co-operation, in profit-sharing, in some more permanent relationship
between the business and the employee.

"There isn't," said the employer compactly. "It's just the malice of
being inferior against the man in control. It's just the spirit of
insubordination and boredom with duty. This trouble's as old as the
Devil."

"But that is exactly the business of the church," said the bishop
brightly, "to reconcile men to their duty."

"By chanting the Athanasian creed at 'em, I suppose," said the big
employer, betraying the sneer he had been hiding hitherto.

"This thing is a fight," said the big employer, carrying on before the
bishop could reply. "Religion had better get out of the streets until
this thing is over. The men won't listen to reason. They don't mean