“Socialistic and heretical,—­it seems.  Of course I’m not much of an authority on heresy, but they claim that you went out of your way to knock some of their most cherished and sacred beliefs in the head.”

“But suppose I have come to the honest conclusion that in the first place these so-called cherished beliefs have no foundation in fact, and no influence on the lives of the persons who cherished them, no real connection with Christianity?  What would you have me do, as a man?  Continue to preach them for the sake of the lethargic peace of which you speak? leave the church paralyzed, as I found it?”

“Paralyzed!  You’ve got the most influential people in the city.”

Hodder regarded him for a while without replying.

“So has the Willesden Club,” he said.

Langmaid laughed a little, uncomfortably.

“If Christianity, as one of the ancient popes is said to have remarked, were merely a profitable fable,” the rector continued, “there might be something in your contention that St. John’s, as a church, had reached the pinnacle of success.  But let us ignore the spiritual side of this matter as non-vital, and consider it from the practical side.  We have the most influential people in the city, but we have not their children.  That does not promise well for the future.  The children get more profit out of the country clubs.  And then there is another question:  is it going to continue to be profitable?  Is it as profitable now as it was, say, twenty years ago?

“You’ve got out of my depth,” said Nelson Langmaid.

“I’ll try to explain.  As a man of affairs, I think you will admit, if you reflect, that the return of St. John’s, considering the large amount of money invested, is scarcely worth considering.  And I am surprised that as astute a man as Mr. Pair has not been able to see this long ago.  If we clear all the cobwebs away, what is the real function of this church as at present constituted?  Why this heavy expenditure to maintain religious services for a handful of people?  Is it not, when we come down to facts, an increasingly futile effort to bring the influences of religion—­of superstition, if you will—­to bear on the so-called lower classes in order that they may remain contented with their lot, with that station and condition in the world where—­it is argued—­it has pleased God to call them?  If that were not so, in my opinion there are very few of the privileged classes who would invest a dollar in the Church.  And the proof of it is that the moment a clergyman raises his voice to proclaim the true message of Christianity they are up in arms with the cry of socialism.  They have the sense to see that their privileges are immediately threatened.

“Looking at it from the financial side, it would be cheaper for them to close up their churches.  It is a mere waste of time and money, because the influence on their less fortunate brethren in a worldly sense has dwindled to nothing.  Few of the poor come near their churches in these days.  The profitable fable is almost played out.”