“Phil, you have such a ridiculous way of putting things!  But I suppose it’s true.”

“True!  I should say it was!  There was Mr. Bentley—­that was mild.  And there never was a hold-up of a western express that could compare to the Consolidated Tractions.  Some of these big fellows have the same kind of brain as the professional thieves.  Well, they are professional thieves —­what’s the use of mincing matters!  They never try the same game twice.  Mr. Parr’s getting ready to make another big haul right now.  I know, because Plimpton said as much, although he didn’t confide in me what this particular piece of rascality is.  He knows better.”  Phil Goodrich looked grim.

“But the law?” exclaimed his wife.

“There never was a law that Nelson Langmaid couldn’t drive a horse and carriage through.”

“And Mr. Langmaid’s one of the nicest men I know!”

“What I wonder,” mused Phil, “is whether this is a mere doctrinal revolt on Hodder’s part, or whether he has found out a few things.  There are so many parsons in these days who don’t seem to see any inconsistency in robbing several thousand people to build settlement houses and carved marble altars, and who wouldn’t accept a Christmas box from a highwayman.  But I’ll do Hodder the justice to say he doesn’t strike me as that kind.  And I have an idea that Eldon Parr and Wallis Plimpton and the rest know he isn’t, know that he’d be a Tartar if he ever get started, and that’s what makes them uneasy.”

“Then it isn’t his change of religious opinions they would care about?” said Eleanor.

“Oh, I don’t say that Eldon Parr won’t try to throw him out if he questions the faith as delivered by the Saints.”

“Phil, what a way of putting it!”

“Any indication of independence, any approach to truth would be regarded as dangerous,” Phil continued.  And of course Gordon Atterbury and others we could mention, who think they believe in the unchipped egg theory, will be outraged.  But it’s deeper than that.  Eldon Parr will give orders that Hodder’s to go.”

“Give orders?”

“Certainly.  That vestry, so far as Mr. Parr is concerned, is a mere dummy board of directors.  He’s made Langmaid, and Plimpton, and even Everett Constable, who’s the son of an honourable gentleman, and ought to know better.  And he can ruin them by snapping his fingers.  He can even make the financial world too hot for Ferguson.  I’ll say this for Gordon Atterbury, that Mr. Parr can’t control him, but he’s got a majority without him, and Gordon won’t vote for a heretic.  Who are left, except father-in-law Waring and myself?”

“He can’t control either of you!” said Eleanor, proudly.

“When it comes to that, Nell—­we’ll move into Canada and buy a farm.”

“But can he hurt you, Phil—­either of you?” she asked, after a moment.

“I’d like to see him try it,” Phil Goodrich declared

And his wife thought, as she looked at him, that she would like to see Mr. Parr try it, too.