The mission house was a veritable rock of offence.  The clergyman had never set foot in the place.  And now that this mooted question had come up, both men were sorry they had said anything to hurt each other’s feelings.  “Perhaps I’m unjust to Storm,” thought the pastor.  “During the four years that he has been holding his afternoon Bible Talks, on Sundays, there has been a larger attendance at the morning church services than ever before, and I haven’t seen the least sign of division in the church.  Storm has not destroyed the parish, as I feared he would.  He is a faithful friend and servant, and I mean to show him how much I appreciate him.”

The little misunderstanding of the forenoon resulted in the pastor’s attending the schoolmaster’s meeting in the afternoon.

“I’ll give Storm a pleasant surprise,” he thought.  “I will go to hear him preach in his Zion.”

On the way to the mission house the pastor’s thoughts went back to the time it was built.  How full the air had been of prophecies, and how firmly he had believed that God had intended it to be something great!  But nothing much had happened.  “Our Lord must have changed His mind,” he thought, amused at his entertaining such queer ideas regarding our Lord.

The schoolmaster’s Zion was a large hall with light-coloured walls.  On either side hung wood engravings of Luther and Melanchton, in fur-trimmed cloaks; along the borders, close to the ceiling, ran highly illuminated Bible texts, embellished with flowers and heavenly trumpets and bassoons.  At the front of the room, above the speaker’s platform, hung an oleograph representing the Good Shepherd.

The large bare room was full of people, which was all that seemed necessary to create an atmosphere of impressive solemnity.  Most of the people were dressed in the picturesque peasant costume of the parish, and the starched and flaring white headgear of the women made the room look as if it were filled with large white-winged birds.

Storm had already commenced his address, when he saw the pastor come down the aisle, and take a seat in the front row.

“You’re a wonderful man, Storm!” thought the school-master.  “Everything comes your way.  Here’s the pastor himself to do you honour.”

During the time that the schoolmaster had been holding meetings, he had explained the Bible from cover to cover.  That afternoon he spoke of the Heavenly Jerusalem and everlasting bliss, as given in the Book of the Revelation.  He was so pleased at the parson having come, that he kept thinking to himself:  “For my part I shouldn’t ask for anything better than to stand on a platform through all eternity, teaching good and obedient children; and if, on occasion, our Lord Himself should drop in to hear me, as the pastor has done to-day, no one in heaven would be more delighted than I.”

The pastor became interested when the schoolmaster began to talk about Jerusalem, and the strange misgivings which he had had long ago flashed through his mind again.  In the middle of the service the door opened, and a number of people came in.  There were about twenty, and they stopped at the door so as not to disturb the meeting.  “Ah!” thought the parson.  “I knew something was going to happen.”