was too strong for Ephraim, but he felt that to be a proof of his own
weakness.

Martha Croom, also of New England stock, was of a different type. At
fifty years she was still as slender as a girl--tall and too slender,
but the small shapely head was set gracefully on the neck as a flower
upon its stalk. Her hair, which was wholly silvered, was still abundant
and glossily brushed. Her mind was not judicial. She was more quick to
decide than to comprehend, full of intense activities and emotions.

"I have heard," said the preacher slowly, "certain distressing rumours
concerning--"

Mrs. Croom gave an upward bridling motion of her head, and a red spot
of indignant fire came in each of her cheeks. "Joe Smith?", she cried.
"A blasphemous wretch! And there is nothing, Mr. Finney, that so well
indicates the luke-warmishness into which so many have fallen as that
his blasphemy is made a jest of."

Ephraim moved uneasily in his chair.

Mr. Croom made a remark brief and judicial. "The Smiths are a _low_
family."

Mrs. Croom answered the tone. "If the dirt beneath our feet were to
begin using profane language, I don't suppose it would be beneath our
dignity to put a stop to it."

"It is the Inquisition that my mother wishes to reinstate," said
Ephraim.