is not unreasonable that we should have something to say concerning the
doctrine to be preached here, that we should insist that that doctrine be
in accordance with what we have always believed was the true doctrine as
received by this Church."

Up to this point Mr. Atterbury had had a feeling that he had not carried
out with much distinction the programme which he had so carefully
rehearsed on the way to the parish house. Hodder's poise had amazed and
baffled him--he had expected to find the rector on the defensive. But
now, burning anew with a sense of injustice, he had a sense at last of
putting his case strongly.

The feeling of triumph, however, was short lived. Hodder did not reply
at once. So many seconds, indeed, went by that Mr. Atterbury began once
more to grow slightly nervous under the strange gaze to which he was
subjected. And when the clergyman' spoke there was no anger in his
voice, but a quality--a feeling which was disturbing, and difficult to
define.

"You are dealing now, Mr. Atterbury," he said, "with the things of
Caesar, not of God. This church belongs to God--not to you. But you
have consecrated it to him. His truth, as Christ taught it, must not be
preached to suit any man's convenience. When you were young you were not
taught the truth--neither was I. It was mixed with adulterations which
obscured and almost neutralized it. But I intend to face it now, and to
preach it, and not the comfortable compromise which gives us the illusion
that we are Christians because we subscribe to certain tenets, and
permits us to neglect our Christian duties.

"And since you have spoken of charity, let me assure you that there is no