“It is a waste of the English language to add,” observed the preacher, with an accession of his natural dignity, which was not without its effect upon Ben Trawl, “that I have never regarded Miss Granite--for a moment--in the extraordinary light which you suggest. It seems to me unnecessary to point out to you the unnaturalness--I may be frank, and say the impossibility--of such a supposition.” “---- you!” raved Ben, “ain’t she good enough for you, then?” “Ben Trawl,” said the minister imperiously, “this nonsense has gone far enough. If you have nothing more reasonable to say to me, we may as well stop talking, for I’m going home. If you have, I’ll stay and hear it out.” Bayard calmly seated himself upon the base of Ragged Rock, and took off his hat. “What a warm, pleasant night it is!” he said in a tone so changed that Ben Trawl stared. “Plucky, anyhow,” thought Ben. But he said: “I ain’t got half through yet. I’ve got another score ag’in’ you. You’ve took the girl, and now you’re takin’ the business.” “Ah,” replied the preacher; “that’s another matter.” “You own up to it, do you? ---- you!” “Assuredly,” answered Bayard. “I am doing my best to ruin your business. It is a pleasure to hear you admit it. It has gone further than I supposed.” “It _has_ gone further ’n you suppose!” echoed Ben malignantly, “and it _will_ go further ’n you suppose! Me and Father have stood it long enough. There’s them that backs us that you never give one of your ---- holy thoughts to. I give you warning on the spot, Mr. Bayard. You stop just where you be. Meddle with our business one inch further, and you’ll hear from the whole liquor interest of Windover. We’ll blow you into eternity if you don’t let us alone.” “I should count that,” replied the preacher gently, “the greatest honor of my life.” “Anyhow,” said Ben in a calmer tone, “if you don’t let our business be, we’ll ruin yourn.” “That is quite possible,” returned Bayard; “but it won’t be without a big tussle.” “You don’t believe me,” sneered Ben; “you think we ain’t up to it.” “Do you suppose, Ben,” asked the preacher quietly, “that an educated man would deliberately choose the course that I have chosen to pursue in this town without informing himself on all branches of the subject that he is handling? Do you suppose I don’t know what the liquor interest is capable of when attacked by Christian temperance? There hasn’t been an outrage, a persecution, a crime,--no, not a murder committed in the name of rum and the devil against the cause of decency and sobriety in this country for years, that I haven’t traced its history out, and kept the record of it. Come up to my study, and see the correspondence and clippings I have collected on this matter. There are two shelves full, Ben.”