of Brenton, may lead you to
smooth him down where I have been rubbing him the wrong way. In fact,
you owe it to him, to atone for the volcanic effect you have had on his
theology."

"Dear man, I haven't upset his blamed theology," Reed objected. "I'm
sound enough; I wouldn't upset a mouse. Ask Ramsdell if I've ever
argued against his belief in the literal greening apple, 'a wee bit
hunripe, sir,' upon which Adam feasted."

"Not in words. It's the fact of you that's so upsetting."

"I've been accused unjustly of a good many things in my time,
Whittenden. Besides," again there came the grimace at the couch; "it
rather seems to me that I'm the one who has been upset."

"That's the whole row. You are the first brick in the line. You bowled
over Brenton; now he appears to be bowling over his wife. Yes, I mean
it. If Brenton had held steady, she never would have wobbled, much less
bolted off to Christian Science. She was keen enough to feel him
tottering, and she evidently made up her mind to save herself from the
impending ruins by taking refuge upon the other side of the street. I
must say it was rather prudent of her. She had the sense to choose a
new house built on a totally different stratum from her old one. If one
collapsed, it couldn't well jar the other."

"Hold on, Whittenden!" Reed broke in, after long waiting for a pause.
"I am willing to take my share of blame for most things; but I'll be--"

"Sh-h!" Whittenden warned him indolently. "Remember I'm a rector in
good standing."

"Then bring me a book of synonyms. Anyhow, I'll be it, before I'll take
the responsibility of that Brenton woman's vagaries. Ask Olive."

"I don't need to," Whittenden remarked at his cigar. "I married them.
Likewise, I have seen Brenton, this very day. After collating those two
references, I don't need Miss Keltridge for a commentary. As for
Brenton--"

Opdyke interrupted.

"How do you figure out that I've been upsetting him?" he queried.

Whittenden settled himself in his favourite position, low in his chair
and with one hand flung upward to grasp the chair-top above his head.
His eyes, fixed on Opdyke, were full of merriment.

"Let's go back a little. When you first knew Brenton, he was a bit
uncommon, the ordinary product of Calvinism flavoured with something
vastly more hectic. That was inside him, that hectic splash in his
blood; it made him imaginative, greedy of new ideas, greedy to prove
that they were good. Moreover