“Do many persons read them, Mr. Engel?” said the rector, at length.

“Read them!” cried Mr. Engel, quizzically.  “We librarians are a sort of weather-vanes, if people only knew enough to consult us.  We can hardly get a sufficient number of these new religious books the good ones, I mean—­to supply the demand.  And the Lord knows what trash is devoured, from what the booksellers tell me.  It reminds me of the days when this library was down on Fifth Street, years ago, and we couldn’t supply enough Darwins and Huxleys and Spencers and popular science generally.  That was an agnostic age.  But now you’d be surprised to see the different kinds of men and women who come demanding books on religion —­all sorts and conditions.  They’re beginning to miss it out of their lives; they want to know.  If my opinion’s worth anything, I should not hesitate to declare that we’re on the threshold of a greater religious era than the world has ever seen.”

Hodder thrust a book back into the pile, and turned abruptly, with a manner that surprised the librarian.  No other clergyman to whom he had spoken on this subject had given evidence of this strong feeling, and the rector of St. John’s was the last man from whom he would have expected it.

“Do you really think so?” Hodder demanded.

“Why, yes,” said Mr. Engel, when he had recovered from his astonishment.  “I’m sure of it.  I think clergymen especially—­if you will pardon me —­are apt to forget that this is a reading age.  That a great many people who used to get what instruction they had—­ahem—­from churches, for instance, now get it from books.  I don’t want to say anything to offend you, Mr. Hodder—­”

“You couldn’t,” interrupted the rector.  He was equally surprised at the discovery that he had misjudged Mr. Engel, and was drawn towards him now with a strong sympathy and curiosity.

“Well,” replied Mr. Engel, “I’m glad to hear you say that.”  He restrained a gasp.  Was this the orthodox Mr. Hodder of St. John’s?

“Why,” said Hodder, sitting down, “I’ve learned, as you have, by experience.  Only my experience hasn’t been so hopeful as yours—­that is, if you regard yours as hopeful.  It would be hypocritical of me not to acknowledge that the churches are losing ground, and that those who ought to be connected with them are not.  I am ready to admit that the churches are at fault.  But what you tell me of people reading these books gives me more courage than I have had for—­for some time.”

“Is it so!” ejaculated the little man, relapsing into the German idiom of his youth.

“It is,” answered the rector, with an emphasis not to be denied.  “I wish you would give me your theory about this phenomenon, and speak frankly.”

“But I thought—­” the bewildered librarian began.  “I saw you had been reading those books, but I thought—­”

“Naturally you did,” said Holder, smiling.  His personality, his ascendency, his poise, suddenly felt by the other, were still more confusing.  “You thought me a narrow, complacent, fashionable priest who had no concern as to what happened outside the walls of his church, who stuck obstinately to dogmas and would give nothing else a hearing.  Well, you were right.”