Page:Honore Willsie--Judith of the godless valley.djvu/202

 Douglas cleared his throat. "How long have you been at it?"

"A couple of years."

"How was it you couldn't earn a living, preaching?"

"It's an age of unfaith," replied the preacher.

"I don't believe it's an age of unfaith." Douglas puffed slowly on a cigarette. "That is, not like you mean. That Sunday, if you'd given us something we could have set our teeth in, we'd have listened to you. I remember distinctly, I sat down in the back of the room, saying to myself, 'Now if this old-timer has something interesting to say, I won't let the kids in.' But you—excuse me, Mr. Fowler—you just got up and bleated like a Montana sheep-man."

The preacher set the coffee-pot on the stove, straightened himself, and shouted, "I spoke the word of God!"

"I don't know whether there's a God or not. Probably there isn't any. But if there is, I'll bet He never talked foolish threats that a fellow has hard work to understand." Mr. Fowler gasped. "Now wait a moment," protested Douglas. "Don't get mad and throw me out like I did you! I'm a man now, and I tell you, Mr. Fowler, I'm troubled about many things and I want you to let me talk to you."

The beautiful, sympathetic light of the shepherd of souls shone in the clergyman's eyes. "Talk on, my boy! I too am troubled about many things. But not about God. I know Him."

"How do you know Him?"

"By His works, the sun, the stars, the universe, through His holy word, the Bible." Douglas waved his hands irritably. "Words! Just words! How can they mean anything to a hard-headed man like me? Everything came out of a fire mist.