The Pillars of the church, who’d been used to getting their religion raw from Doc Hoover, didn’t take to the bottle kindly, and they all fell away except Deacon Wiggleford.  He and the youngsters seemed to cotton to the new man, and just before Doc Hoover was due to get back they called a special meeting, and retired the old man with the title of pastor emeritus.  They voted him two donation parties a year as long as he lived, and elected the Higher Lifer as the permanent pastor of the church.  Deacon Wiggleford suggested the pastor emeritus extra.  He didn’t quite know what it meant, but he’d heard it in Chicago, and it sounded pretty good, and as if it ought to be a heap of satisfaction to a fellow who was being fired.  Besides, it didn’t cost anything, and the Deacon was one of those Christians who think that you ought to be able to save a man’s immortal soul for two bits.

The Pillars were mighty hot next day when they heard what had happened, and were for calling another special meeting; but two or three of them got together and decided that it was best to lay low and avoid a row until the Doc got back.

He struck town the next week with a jugful of water from the River Jordan in one hand and a gripful of paper-weights made of wood from the Mount of Olives in the other.  He was chockful of the joy of having been away and of the happiness of getting back, till they told him about the Deacon’s goings on, and then he went sort of gray and old, and sat for a minute all humped up.

Si Perkins, who was one of the unregenerate, but a mighty good friend of the Doc’s, was standing by, and he blurted right out:  “You say the word, Doc, and we’ll make the young people’s society ride this rooster out of town on a rail.”

That seemed to wake up the Elder a bit, for he shook his head and said, “No nonsense now, you Si”; and then, as he thought it over, he began to bristle and swell up; and when he stood it was to his full six feet four, and it was all man.  You could see that he was boss of himself again, and when a man like old Doc Hoover is boss of himself he comes pretty near being boss of every one around him.  He sent word to the Higher Lifer by one of the Pillars that he reckoned he was counting on him to preach a farewell sermon the next Sunday, and the young man, who’d been keeping in the background till whatever was going to drop, dropped, came around to welcome him in person.  But while the Doc had been doing a heap of praying for grace, he didn’t propose to take any chances, and he didn’t see him.  And he wouldn’t talk to any one else, just smiled in an aggravating way, though everybody except Deacon Wiggleford and the few youngsters who’d made the trouble called to remonstrate against his paying any attention to their foolishness.

The whole town turned out the next Sunday to see the Doc step down.  He sat beside the Higher Lifer on the platform, and behind them were the six deacons.  When it came time to begin the services the Higher Lifer started to get up, but the Doc was already on his feet, and he whispered to him: