Another incongruous thing about the man with the clerical dress was that he had a carpenter’s hammer in his hand. Dropping this tool upon the wooden landing, where it clattered loudly, he drew a key from his pocket and locked the door, shaking it viciously to make sure that it was fast. Then, descending the steps, with the claw of the hammer he pried loose a plank, some six or eight feet long, from the wooden walk that ran across the sod to the concrete pavement in front. The missionary secretary took one end of this, and the two raised it across the door, where the ex-clergyman disclosed the fact that his bulging left hand contained nails, as with swinging blows, he began to cleat the door fast. "Nailing up God!" commented John, whose mood had become sardonic. "What’s the story, I wonder," he remarked next, and rising, sauntered across the narrow street and up the wooden walk, till he stopped with one foot on the lower step, gazing casually, with mild curiosity expressed upon his face. The missionary secretary had noted John’s advance and appeared to recognize that his chance interest was legitimate. "A miserable, squabbling little church," the man remarked, an expression of pain upon his face. "A disgrace to the communion. I’m the District Evangelist. I’ve had to step in from the outside and close it up, in the interest of peace. Brother Burbeck, here, is a leader of one of the wings. He has tried to bring peace in vain." "I have stood up for the Lord against the disturber," announced Brother Burbeck over his shoulder, while he dealt a vicious blow, as if the head of the nail were instead the head of the malefactor. "And who was the disturber?" queried John. "A man of bad character, I suppose." "No, you couldn’t call him that, could you, Brother Burbeck?" ventured the District Evangelist. "Just a young man from the Seminary, with his head overflowing with undigested facts." "Near facts, they was—_only_," interjected Brother Burbeck sententiously, as he held another nail between a hard thumb and a knotted finger, and tapped the head gently to start it. "Rather undermining the faith of the people in the old Gospel," went on the Evangelist. "Takin’ away what he couldn’t never put back," amended Brother Burbeck, between blows, and then added accusingly: "He had no respect for the Elders, not a bit." Brother Burbeck’s tones, as he contributed this additional detail, were as sharp as his blows. "You were one of the Elders?" inquired John, in an even voice that might have been construed to mean respect for the eldership. "I am one of ’em," corrected the driver of nails. "I preached the old Jerusalem Gospel myself for twenty years," he affirmed proudly, "until my health failed, and I went into undertaking." "You appear to have got your health back," observed John dryly, noting marks of the hammer upon the plank where the nail heads had been beaten almost out of sight by his slashing blows.