“Have I not set my face against all such practices?” said the Vicar. “You know right well that sooner than cause offence to one of Christ’s flock I would willingly give up even ceremonies and uses that I personally like. Yet you deliberately destroy a beautiful and inoffensive window that we can never replace; such colours can, alas! no longer be made, the art is lost.” “Thank the Lord for that,” said Waghorn, fervently. “Just and holy are all His works.” “_Oh!_” ejaculated the poor Vicar, intensely exasperated; and, turning aside, he paced the lobby in deep distress. “In truth, Waghorn,” said Dr. Harford, “one can scarce say that your works are just and holy. ’Tis true that Parliament hath very rightly ordered the destruction of some windows wherein blasphemous representations of sacred mysteries gave just offence. But too many folk destroy recklessly; why did you object to the window?” “’Twas flat against the Second Commandment,” said Waghorn, doggedly, “which forbids representation of anything in heaven above or the earth beneath. The archangel’s above and the devil’s below, and I did well to shatter their unlawful likenesses.” “The Commandment forbids bowing down to things that are seen,” said the Doctor. “But, as the Vicar reminds you, no one here thought of doing any such thing. Moreover, Waghorn, there is also an eighth commandment, and I see not why you should break that by the deliberate robbery of a glass window. Next Sunday you will have the villagers complaining of a cold church.” “I’ll put in good honest white glass at my own charge,” said Waghorn, and at that the Vicar, suddenly perceiving the humour of the words, gave something between a sob and a chuckle. “But you would be well advised, sir,” resumed the wood-carver, “to remove those popish saints out of the chancel, for I do sorely long to dash their pates off with hammer and axe.” “Heaven forefend!” said the Vicar. “Why man, they are no popish saints, but the worthy ancestors of Dr. Bridstock Harford; what possible objection can you have to their monuments?” “And, moreover, Waghorn,” said the Doctor, “Parliament hath ordered that all the monuments of the dead be unmolested and treated with respect.” “I like not such representations,” said Waghorn. “But being your ancestors, Doctor, I’ll not molest them, for you were once good to my father.” “Ah! it comes back to that,” said the Vicar with a sigh. “We do but reap to-day in these frenzied outbreaks of Puritanic zeal the harvest of the far worse cruelties of the past. I mourn over a shattered window, but this poor fellow mourns a father cruelly done to death. I don’t forget, Waghorn, how greatly you have suffered in the past, but for God’s sake, man, let us try to dwell in peace together.”