“Tell me all about it, Philip,” she said.  Sunday evening they had talked over the fact of Mr. Winter’s walking out of the church during the service, and had anticipated some trouble.  Philip related the facts of Mr. Winter’s visit, telling his wife some things the mill-owner had said.

“What did you say, Philip, to make him so angry?  Did you give him a piece of your mind?”

“I gave him the whole of it,” replied Philip, somewhat grimly—­“at least all of it on that particular subject that he could stand.”

“Oh, dear!  It seems too bad to have this trouble come so soon!  What will Mr. Winter do?  He is very wealthy and influential.  Do you think—­are you sure that in this matter you have done just right, just for the best, Philip?  It is going to be very unpleasant for you.”

“Well, Sarah, I would not do differently from what I have done.  What have I done?  I have simply preached God’s truth, as I plainly see it, to my church.  And if I do not do that, what business have I in the ministry at all?  I regret this personal encounter with Mr. Winter; but I don’t see how I could avoid it.”

“Did you lose your temper?”

“No.”

“There was some very loud talking.  I could hear it away out in the kitchen.”

“Well, you know, Sarah, the more indignant I get the less inclined I feel to ‘holler.’  It was Mr. Winter you heard.  He was very much excited when he came, and nothing that I could conscientiously say would have made any difference with him.”

“Did you ask him to pray over the matter with you?”

“No.  I do not think he was in a praying mood.”

“Were you?”

Philip hesitated a moment, and then replied seriously:  “Yes, I truly believe I was—­that is, I should not have been ashamed at any part of the interview to put myself into loving communion with my Heavenly Father.”

Mrs. Strong still looked disturbed and anxious.  She was going over in her mind the probable result of Mr. Winter’s antagonism to the minister.  It looked to her like a very serious thing.  Philip was inclined to treat the affair with calm philosophy, based on the knowledge that his conscience was clear of all fault in the matter.

“What do you suppose Mr. Winter will do?” Mrs. Strong asked.

“He threatened to withdraw his financial support, and said other paying members would do the same.”

“Do you think they will?”

“I don’t know.  I shouldn’t wonder if they do.”

“What will you do then?  It will be dreadful to have a disturbance in the church of this kind, Philip; it will ruin your prospects here.  You will not be able to work under all that friction.”

And the minister’s wife suddenly broke down and had a good cry; while Philip comforted her, first by saying two or three funny things, and secondly by asserting, with a positive cheerfulness which was peculiar to him when he was hard pressed, that, even if the church withdrew all support, he (Philip) could probably get a job somewhere on a railroad, or in a hotel, where there was always a demand for porters who could walk up several flights of stairs with a good-sized trunk.