‘It seems to me,’ said Elias Bradshaw, ’as Mr. Penrose spends a deal too mich time in poolin’ up the stumps and makin’ th’ strait gate into a gap as ony rubbige con go thro’.  I could like to yer him preych fro’ the fifteenth verse o’ th’ last chapter i’ Revelation.  I once yerd a grond sarmon fro’ that text i’ th’ pulpit up aboon here; and when it were oer, Dickey o’ Sams o’ the Heights went aat o’ th’ chapel, and tried to draan hissel’ i’ Green Fold Lodge.  Naa, that’s what I co powerful preychin’!’

’Pardon me, Mr. Bradshaw.  We are not here to discuss the merits of preaching.  We are here to consider the request of Amanda Stott—­’

‘An’ axin’ yor pardon, Mr. Penrose, that’s whod I wur comin’ to.  I’m noan a fancy talker like yo’.  Aw never larned to be, and I’m noan paid to be.  Whod I wur baan to say, if you’ll nobbud let me, wur this:  As Jesus Christ wur a deal more particular who He leet in than who He kept aat.  That’s all.’

‘But who did He keep out?’ asked Dr. Hale.

’Haa mony, thinksto, did He leet in, doctor?  I could welly caant um o’ on both mi hands.’

‘It seems to me yo’ want to mak’ saints as scarce as white crows,’ said Abraham Lord.

‘Nay, Abram; we want to keep th’ black ‘uns aat o’ th’ nests.’

‘Then yo’ mud as weel fell th’ rookery,’ was Abraham’s sharp retort, which called forth a hearty laugh.

‘If I read th’ Bible reet,’ said Amos Entwistle, returning to the fray, ‘if I read th’ Bible reet, a felley once coome to Jesus Christ an’ axed Him if mony or few wur saved; and all he geet for an answer wur, “Thee mind and geet saved thisel’; it’ll tak’ thee all thy time wi’out botherin’ abaat others.”  An’ I think it’ll tak’ us all aar time baat botherin’ abaat Amanda Stott.  I move as we tak’ no more notice on her axin’ to come back amang us.  It’s geddin’ lat, an’ my porritch is waitin’ for me at wom’.’

This was more than Mr. Penrose could bear, and rising to his feet, he asked, in suppressed tones, that the matter under discussion might receive the care and wisdom and mercy that a soul demanded from those who held in their hands the shaping of its earthly destiny; and then, in a voice stifled with emotion, he ventured to draw the contrast between the last speaker, who would fain hurry, for the sake of an evening meal, decisions that had to deal with the peace of a repentant girl, and He who, in the moments of bodily hunger, putting aside the refreshment brought by His disciples, said, ‘I have meat to eat that ye know not of.’

Nor did Mr. Penrose plead in vain.  Those who listened to him were moved by his words, and Amos Entwistle sat down, to utter no further word against Amanda.