And I have more
respect for ANY sacred work than to speak of it as 'lovely.' In
fact, in all kindness, I must say that I fear the poor child is a
veritable heathen."
This conclusion was felt to be sound, logically, but without great
practical significance. The veritable heathen persisted in church-
going to such an extent that she tired out several of the most
orthodox and it was rumored that she even went so far as to discuss
the sermon afterward. "Just as if," said Mrs. Pennington, "it were a
lecture or a play or something."
As a matter of fact, Desire was intensely interested in sermons. She
had so seldom heard any that the weekly doling out of truth by the
Rev. Mr. McClintock had all the fascination of a new experience. Mr.
McClintock was of the type which does not falter in its message. He
had no doubts. He had thought out every possible spiritual problem
as a young man and had seen no reason for thinking them out a second
time. What he had accepted at twenty, he believed at sixty, with
this difference that while at twenty some of his conclusions had
caused him sleepless nights, at sixty they were accepted with
complacency. No questioning pierced the hard enamel of his
assurance. He saw no second side to anything because he never
turned it over. He had a way of saying "I believe" which was
absolutely final.
Desire had been collecting Mr. McClintock's beliefs carefully. They
fascinated her. She often woke up in the night thinking of them,
wondering at their strange diversity and speculating as to the
ultimate discovery of some missing piece which might make them all
fit in.
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