"Why, yes," said Mr. Engel, when he had recovered from his astonishment.
"I'm sure of it. I think clergymen especially--if you will pardon me
--are apt to forget that this is a reading age. That a great many people
who used to get what instruction they had--ahem--from churches, for
instance, now get it from books. I don't want to say anything to offend
you, Mr. Hodder--"

"You couldn't," interrupted the rector. He was equally surprised at the
discovery that he had misjudged Mr. Engel, and was drawn towards him now
with a strong sympathy and curiosity.

"Well," replied Mr. Engel, "I'm glad to hear you say that." He
restrained a gasp. Was this the orthodox Mr. Hodder of St. John's?

"Why," said Hodder, sitting down, "I've learned, as you have, by
experience. Only my experience hasn't been so hopeful as yours--that is,
if you regard yours as hopeful. It would be hypocritical of me not to
acknowledge that the churches are losing ground, and that those who ought
to be connected with them are not. I am ready to admit that the churches
are at fault. But what you tell me of people reading these books gives
me more courage than I have had for--for some time."

"Is it so!" ejaculated the little man, relapsing into the German idiom of
his youth.

"It is," answered the rector, with an emphasis not to be denied. "I wish
you would give me your theory about this phenomenon, and speak frankly."

"But I thought--" the bewildered librarian began. "I saw you had been
reading those books, but I thought--"