The Rev. Percival Pontifex Beetle and his sister Miss Jane Beetle prided themselves on being leaders in the best social circle in Massapequa.  The incumbent of the local Presbyterian church, the Rev. Deetle, was a thin, sallow man of about thirty-five.  He had a diminutive face with a rather long and very pointed nose which gave a comical effect to his physiognomy.  Theology was written all over his person and he wore the conventional clerical hat which, owing to his absurdly small face, had the unfortunate appearance of being several sizes too large for him.  Miss Deetle was a gaunt and angular spinster who had an unhappy trick of talking with a jerk.  She looked as if she were constantly under self-restraint and was liable at any moment to explode into a fit of rage and only repressed herself with considerable effort.  As they came up the stoop, Eudoxia, already instructed by Mrs. Rossmore, was ready for them.  With her instinctive respect for the priestly garb she was rather taken back on seeing a clergyman, but she brazened it out: 

“Mr. Rossmore’s not home.”  Then shaking her head, she added:  “They don’t see no visitors.”

Unabashed, the Rev. Deetle drew a card from a case and handing it to the girl said pompously: 

“Then we will see Mrs. Rossmore.  I saw her at the window as we came along.  Here, my girl, take her this card.  Tell her that the Reverend Pontifex Deetle and Miss Deetle have called to present their compliments.”

Brushing past Eudoxia, who vainly tried to close the door, the Rev. Deetle coolly entered the house, followed by his sister, and took a seat in the parlour.

“She’ll blame me for this,” wailed the girl, who had not budged and who stood there fingering the Rev. Deetle’s card.

“Blame you?  For what?” demanded the clerical visitor in surprise.

“She told me to say she was out—­but I can’t lie to a minister of the Gospel—­leastways not to his face.  I’ll give her your card, sir.”

The reverend caller waited until Eudoxia had disappeared, then he rose and looked around curiously at the books and pictures.

“Hum—­not a Bible or a prayer book or a hymn book, not a picture or anything that would indicate the slightest reverence for holy things.”

He picked up a few papers that were lying on the table and after glancing at them threw them down in disgust.

“Law reports—­Wall Street reports—­the god of this world.  Evidently very ordinary people, Jane.”

He looked at his sister, but she sat stiffly and primly in her chair and made no reply.  He repeated: 

“Didn’t you hear me?  I said they are ordinary people.”

“I’ve no doubt,” retorted Miss Deetle, “and as such they will not thank us for prying into their affairs.”

“Prying, did you say?” said the parson, resenting this implied criticism of his actions.

“Just plain prying,” persisted his sister angrily.  “I don’t see what else it is.”