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 CHAPTER XVIII

THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER

The sermon was dry and tiresome, old-fashioned and overflowing with "doctrine." John Harting had never made a pretense of sympathizing with the liberality of modern dominies who relied wholly for the saving of souls upon "the message of love." True, he had ceased openly to preach "hell fire," but doubtless he still believed in it, if not as a literal punishment for the sinful hereafter, then as the only adequate synonym of the penalty that should be meted out to the evil-doer who died unregenerate.

He had found that such preaching, instead of attracting and holding congregations, left the pews of the little old church sadly vacant; and the effort to modify his sermons had taken from them the little heart they once possessed, and made them wearisome and soporific.

The day was warm and sunny, and at times faint little grateful breezes, venturing in at the open windows, brought the June odors of flowers, and grass, and green growing things. Birds were