“Religion doesn’t appeal to them.”

“Why not?”

“Ye’ve asked me a riddle.  All I know is that the minute ye begin to preach, off they go and never come back.”

Hodder, with unconscious fixity, looked into his assistant’s honest face.  He had an exasperating notion that McCrae might have said more, if he would.

“Haven’t you a theory?”

“Try yourself,” said McCrae.  His manner was abrupt, yet oddly enough, not ungracious.

“Don’t think I’m criticizing,” said the rector, quickly.

“I know well ye’re not.”

“I’ve been trying to learn.  It seems to me that we are only accomplishing half our task, and I know that St. John’s is not unique in this respect.  I’ve been talking to Andrews, of Trinity, about their poor.”

“Does he give you a remedy?”

“No,” Hodder said.  “He can’t see any more than I can why Christianity doesn’t appeal any longer.  The fathers and mothers of these people went to church, in the old country and in this.  Of course he sees, as you and I do, that society has settled into layers, and that the layers won’t mix.  And he seems to agree with me that there is a good deal of energy exerted for a comparatively small return.”

“I understand that’s what Mr. Parr says.”

These references to Mr. Parr disturbed Hodder.  He had sometimes wondered, when he had been compelled to speak about his visits to the financier, how McCrae regarded them.  He was sure that McCrae did regard them.

“Mr. Parr is willing to be even more generous than he has been,” Hodder said.  “The point is, whether it’s wise to enlarge our scope on the present plan.  What do you think?”

“Ye can reach more,” McCrae spoke without enthusiasm.

“What’s the use of reaching them, only to touch them?  In addition to being helped materially and socially, and kept away from the dance-halls and saloons, they ought to be fired by the Gospels, to be remade.  They should be going out into the highways and byways to bring others into the church.”

The Scotchman’s face changed a little.  For an instant his eyes lighted up, whether in sympathy or commiseration or both, Hodder could not tell.

“I’m with ye, Mr. Hodder, if ye’ll show me the way.  But oughtn’t we to begin at both ends?”

“At both ends?” Hodder repeated.

“Surely.  With the people in the pews?  Oughtn’t we to be firing them, too?”

“Yes,” said the rector.  “You’re right.”

He turned away, to feel McCrae’s hand on his sleeve.

“Maybe it will come, Mr. Hodder,” he said.  “There’s no telling when the light will strike in.”

It was the nearest to optimism he had ever known his assistant to approach.

“McCrae,” he asked, “have you ever tried to do anything with Dalton Street?”

“Dalton Street?”

The real McCrae, whom he had seemed to see emerging, retired abruptly, presenting his former baffling and noncommittal exterior.