The Butterfly gave but a grudging consent. She was the natural enemy of all serious instruction. As they went she babbled on about Gabriel Norris: “As he was bent on preaching, his father wanted him to go to a theological college and be shaped up into a first-class regulation preacher, wear the correct thing in clothes, have a fashionable church, gilt-edged Bible, velvet pulpit cushions, fat salary and everything that goes to make preaching respectable; but Gabriel wouldn’t have it that way. He said there was more than enough of that kind of thing; that what he wanted to say to people had nothing in common with theological factories, and as for pulpit cushions and the like they were abominations in the sight of the Lord; that Jesus had none of them, nor would he have.” The scene at the market-house was one to take hold upon the heart. The people who sat there on rude benches were all from the bitter land of indigence. Its hard conditions were written in their faces, their poor garments, stooping shoulders, weary and awkward attitudes. Many women were there, for women are ever found where a word of promise and hope is to be spoken, and that fact is eloquent of what they suffer, of the bitterness of their disappointments, of the weight of their sorrows, of the hunger of their hearts and the yearning of their spirits. Before the preacher had spoken ten minutes Cartice was under the spell of his oratory, which was simple, strong and sympathetic. It wasn’t preaching. It was the life-giving, hope-inspiring talk of a loving friend, and it went to the hearts of his hearers and there awoke nobler aspirations. He said nothing of seeing evil in them. Instead, he told them how good they were--much better and higher than they themselves had dreamed; that possibilities of wonderful and beautiful growth were in every one of them; that they had an eternity in which to grow, and on themselves depended their well-being now and forever. It was good to see the light of self-respect come into their dull eyes under the potent spell of the young preacher’s earnest words. Some of them had shrunk internally to almost nothing, under the blight of the self-depreciation which close intimacy with grinding poverty begets. Now their souls began to gather confidence and stand erect, conscious of their own value.