"I feel that I have the right to call upon every friend, upon every member of All People’s, upon every believer in those things for which I have fought in this community, to rally to my side to fight shoulder to shoulder in the battle to repel what in effect is an assault not upon me, but upon the things for which I stand." Mrs. Burbeck’s expressive eyes were floating full with a look that verged from sympathy toward pity. "You will have to be a very expert tactician," she said soberly, drawing on those fountains of ripe wisdom, so full at times that they seemed to mount toward inspiration; "if you are to make the public think of your embarrassment in that way. It is going to look at this as a disgraceful personal entanglement of a minister with an actress!" Hampstead writhed in his chair. Nothing but the depth of his consideration for Mrs. Burbeck kept him from exclaiming vehemently against what he deemed the enormous injustice of this assumption. "She’s right, Doc; right’s your left leg," sounded a throaty voice, which startled the two of them into remembering that they were not alone. "Why, Wyatt!" exclaimed the minister reprovingly, turning sharply on the deputy. "Excuse me, Doc," Wyatt mumbled abjectly. "I just thought that out loud. All the same, she’s wisin’ you up to somethin’ if you’ll let ’er. Some of these old dames that ain’t got nothin’ to do but just set and think gets hep to a lot of things that a hustlin’ man overlooks." Hampstead was disgusted. "Don’t interrupt us again, please, Wyatt," he observed, combining dignity and rebuke in his utterance. But Wyatt, influenced no doubt by the look almost of fright on Mrs. Burbeck’s face, was already in apologetic mood. "Say," he mumbled contritely, "you’re right, Doc. I’m so sorry for the break that, orders or no orders, I’ll just step out in the hall while you finish. But all the same, you listen to her," and he indicated the disturbed and slightly offended Mrs. Burbeck with a stab of a toothpick in the air, "and she’ll tell you somethin’ that’s useful." "Thank you very much, Wyatt," replied the minister in noncommittal tones, but with a sigh of relief as the deputy withdrew from the room. Yet he had a growing sense of depression. Wyatt’s boorish, croaking interruption had thrown him out of poise. Mrs. Burbeck’s exaggerated sense of the gravity of the matter weighed him down like lead, and the more because an inner voice, sounding faintly and from far away, but with significance unmistakable, seemed to tell him her view was right. Nevertheless, his whole soul rose in protest. It ought not to be right. It was a gross travesty on justice and on popular good sense. Mrs. Burbeck, looking at him fixedly, noted this change in spirit and the conflict of emotions which resulted. Reaching out impulsively, she touched the large hand of the man where it lay upon the desk.