aven from heathens and idolaters.
You are all just as bad as those people Saint Paul speaks of, who were
always running after some new thing. I'm happy to say my Bible and my
Church are good enough for me. I don't want a new religion at my time
of life."

"The teachers in the Church are so very frequently our intellectual
inferiors," murmured the poet, "that they only excite commiseration, or
amusement."

"Well, I suppose they know their business," snapped Mrs Masterman, "I'm
sure no man would go into the Church if he didn't feel a call, and the
fact of his doing so and taking up that life should be enough to prevent
any right-minded person from ridiculing mere human frailties of voice
and manner and appearance."

"Unfortunately," murmured the poet, "I have been at college with several
embryo parsons. But to the best of my recollection the only `special'
call they had for the _office_ was the call of some earthly relative or
friend who had a comfortable living at his disposal. It seems to me--I
may be wrong, of course--but it really does seem to me that we have
quite reversed the old order of religious ministration. At first every
worldly consideration, even the necessaries of life, were given up by
those who undertook the office. Now, the office is only undertaken
_for_ the worldly considerations, and the necessities of life--"

"Oh," cried Mrs Masterman, losing her temper, which even at the best of
times was exceedingly hard to keep. "You go off, young man, to your
`Lights of Asia,' and all your other idolatrous rubbish. The truth is
this foreign woman has bewitched you all, and will end in making you
heathens like herself. Thank goodness I've too much sense to listen to
her. It's my belief she'll turn out a murderess, or a fire worshipper,
or something of that sort before we've seen the last of her. I don't
like mysterious persons! If she hadn't had big eyes, and a straight
nose, and a figure like those Venuses and creatures who hold the lamps
in the corridors, no one here would have troubled their heads about
her!"

And she swept away contemptuously, leaving the poet utterly aghast at
her last indignant speech. He repeated it to Mrs Ray Jefferson, who
was reclining in a rocking-chair, endeavouring to comprehend "The Light
of Asia." The endeavour, however, was not very successful, and she
hailed the approach of the poet with delight. His account of the
conversation filled her with wrath and indig