“What could you do about it?” Pat was puzzled.

“Do about it?  Why, man, I can buy it if there isn’t any other way!”

They went to see the church member, who proved to be a good old soul, but deaf and old and very poor.  He said they had to give the church up; they couldn’t make it pay.  All the rich people had moved away.  He shook his head sadly and told how he and his wife were married there.  He hobbled over and showed them how to get in a side door.

The yellow afternoon sun was sifting through windows of cheap stained glass, and fell in mellow quiet upon the faded cushions and musty ingrain carpet.  The place had that deserted look of having been abandoned, yet Courtland, as he stood in the shadow under the old balcony, seemed to see the Presence of the eternal God standing up there behind the pulpit, seemed to feel the hallowed memories of long ago, and scent the lingering incense of all the prayers that had gone up from all the souls who had worshiped there in the years that were past.

“They think an iron-foundry’s going to buy it, or else some one may make a munition-factory out of it,” the old man contributed.  “This war’s bringing a big change over things.”

“Their plowshares into swords, their pruning-hooks into spears,” chanted an unseen voice, sadly, behind Courtland.  His face set sternly.  He turned to Pat: 

“I can’t let that happen, old man!” he said.  “I’m going to buy it if I can.  Come, we’ll go and look it up!”

Pat looked at his companion with awe.  He had always known he was rich, but—­to purchase a church as if it were a jack-knife!  That sure was going some!

Courtland did not return to the seminary until Tuesday morning.  By that time he had bought his church.  It didn’t take him long to come to an agreement.  The Church of God was in a bad way and was willing to take up with almost any offer that would cover their liabilities.

“Well,” said Pat, “that sure was some hustle!  There’s one thing, Court.  You won’t have to candidate for any church like those other guys in your little old seminary.  You just went out and bought one; though I surmise you and I’ll have to do some scrubbing if you calculate to hold services there very soon.”

“H’m!” said Courtland.  “I hadn’t thought of that, Pat!  Maybe that would be a good idea!”

“Holy Mackinaw, man!  What did you buy it for, then, if you didn’t intend to use it?  Do it just to have the right to tear down that blooming sign, did you?”

“That’s about the size of it,” smiled Courtland as he halted in front of his newly acquired church and looked up at it with interest.  “But now I’ve got it I might as well use it.  Suppose we start a mission here, Pat, you and I?  Let’s cut that sign down first, and then, Pat, I’m going to hunt up a stone-cutter.  This church has got to have a new name.  ‘Church of God for sale’ has killed this one!  A church that used to belong to God and doesn’t any more is what that means.  They have sold the Church of God, but His Presence is still here!”