courage to put it into words.

The schoolmaster was a man of sixty and, despite all the work and
responsibility which had fallen to his lot, he was still master of
his forces. There was a great contrast between him and the parson.
Storm was one of the biggest men in Dalecarlia. His head was
covered with a mass of black bushy hair, his skin was as dark as
bronze, and his features were strong and clear cut. He looked
singularly powerful beside the pastor, who was a little
narrow-chested, bald-headed man.

The schoolmaster's wife thought that her husband, as the stronger,
ought to give in, and motioned to him to drop the matter. Whatever
of regret he may have felt, there was nothing in his manner to
indicate that he had any idea of relinquishing his project.

Then the schoolmaster began to speak plainly and to the point. He
said he was certain that before long the heretics would invade
their parish; therefore, it was very necessary that they should
have a meeting place where one could talk to the people in a more
informal way than at a regular church service; where one might
choose one's own text, expound the whole Bible, and interpret its
most difficult passages to the people.

His wife again signed to him to keep still. She knew what the
clergyman was thinking while her husband talked. "So I haven't
taught them anything, and I haven't given them any sort of
protection against unbelief? I must be a poor specimen of a pastor
when the schoolmaster in my own parish thinks himself a better
preacher than I."