e and tennis courts and an exquisite
little Gothic church.

"When our folks first talked about moving out here I thought it was all
right; and I do yet, in some ways," explained Joe. "But the Heights is
getting a little too good for me; I'm not as keen about being exclusive
as I used to be. I've thought lately that exclusiveness may be just as
bad for people inside the gates, as for the people outside. But here we
are, as the Atlantic City whale said when the ebb tide stranded it in
front of the Board Walk. What are we up to, us three?"

"We're up to finding out about the town churches," said J.W. "Maybe they
can help the town more than they do, but we don't know how, and so far
we haven't found anybody else who knows how."

And Marcia said: "At least we know some things. We have the figures.
About one Delafield citizen in seven goes to church or Sunday school on
Sunday. Church membership is one in ten. And as many people go to the
movies and the Columbia vaudeville and the dance halls and poolrooms on
Saturday as go to church on Sunday, to say nothing of the crowds that go
on the other five days."

Joe Carbrook whistled. "That's a tough nut to crack, gentle people," he
said, "because you've simply got to think of those other five days. The
chances are that four times as many people in Delafield go to other
public places as go to church and Sunday school."

"What can the churches do?" asked J.W. "You can't make people go to
church."

"No," assented Marcia, "and if you could, it would be foolish. We want
to make people like the churches, not hate them. One thing I believe our
churches can do is to put their public services more into methods and
forms that don't have to be taken for granted or just mentally dodged.
Half the time people don't know what a religious service really stands
for."

"Meaning by that----?" Joe queried, as much to hear Marcia talk as for
the sake of what she might say.

"Well, they have seen and heard it since they were children. When they
were little they didn't understand it, and now it is so familiar that
they forget they don't understand it," Marcia responded, not wholly
oblivious of Joe's strategy, but too much in earnest to care. "I've
heard of a successful preacher in the East who seems to be making them
understand. He says he tries to put into each service four
things--light, music, motion; that is, change--and a touch of the
dramatic. Why not? I think it could be done without des