By this time the old man had got on his spencer, and, with staff in hand, declared himself in readiness. Ned Hinkley lowered his pistol with reluctance. He was very anxious to try the weapon and his own aim, on somebody or something. That black spider which lived so securely in the domicil of Mr. Calvert would have stood no chance in any apartment of the widow Hinkley. Even the “pacificator” would have been employed for its extermination, if, for no other reason, because of the fancied resemblance which it had always worn to Brother Stevens--a resemblance which occurred to him, perhaps, in consequence of the supposed similarity between the arts of the libertine and those for the entrapping of his victims which distinguish the labors of the spider. The two were soon arrived at old Hinkley's, and the tale of Ned was told; but, such was the bigotry of the hearers, without securing belief. “So blessed a young man!” said the old lady. “A brand from the burning!” exclaimed Brother Cross. “It's all an invention of Satan!” cried old Hinkley, “to prevent the consummation of a goodly work.” “We should not give our faith too readily to such devices of the enemy, Friend Calvert,” said John Cross, paternally. “I never saw anything in him that wasn't perfectly saint-like,” said Mrs. Hinkley. “He made the most heartfelt prayer, and the loveliest blessing before meat! I think I hear him now--'Lord, make us thankful'--with his eyes shut up so sweetly, and with such a voice.” “There are always some people, Brother Cross, to hate the saints of the Lord and to slander them! They lie in wait like thieves of the night, and roaring lions of the wilderness, seeking what they may devour.” “Ah,” exclaimed Brother Cross, “how little do such know that they devour themselves; for whoso destroyeth his best friend is a devourer of himself.” “The blindness of Satan is upon them, and they do his work.” And thus--purr, purr, purr--they went on, to the end of the chapter. Poor Ned Hinkley found the whole kennel was upon him. Not only did they deny everything that could by possibility affect the fair fame of the absent brother, but, from defending him, they passed, with an easy transition, to the denunciation of those who were supposed to be his defamers. In this the worthy old man Calvert came in for his share. “All this comes of your supporting that worthless boy of mine in defiance of my will,” said old Hinkley. “You hate Brother Stevens because that boy hated him, and because I love him.” “You are mistaken, Mr. Hinkley,” said Calvert, mildly. “I hate nobody; at the same time I suffer no mere prejudices to delude me against sight and reason.” “Ah!” said Brother Cross, gently, “it's that very reason, Brother Calvert, that ruins you worldlings. You must not rely on human reason. Build on faith, and you build on the Rock of Ages.”