A little alarmed, Edith plunged into a narrative of events. “I had just one feather left on my return from Heathfield,” she said, “and as I came across the Common there was John Smith loafing about as he so often is. So I went up to him and said: ‘I should like to give you this.’” A look of pained annoyance came into the vicar’s face. “It may be right in principle,” he said, “but the method doesn’t appeal to me. And I warned you that something of this kind might happen.” “But he ought to be in the army. Or working at munitions.” “Maybe. Well, you gave him the feather. And what happened?” “First of all he kissed it. Then he put it in his buttonhole, and struck a sort of attitude and said--let me give you his exact words--‘And lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him.’” The vicar jumped up as if he had been stung. “The fellow said that! But that’s blasphemy!” “Exactly what I thought, father,” said Edith in an extremely emotional voice. “I was simply horrified.” “Atrocious blasphemy!” Seething with indignation the vicar began to stride about the room. “This must be carried further,” he said. To the lay mind such an incident hardly called for serious notice, even on the part of the vicar of the parish whose function it was to notice all things seriously. But with a subtlety of malice that Mr. Perry-Hennington deeply resented it had searched out his weakness. For some little time now, John Smith had been a thorn in the pastoral cushion. Week by week this village wastrel was becoming a sorer problem. Although the man’s outrageous speech was of a piece with the rest of his conduct, the vicar immediately felt that it had brought matters to a head. He had already foreseen that the mere presence in his parish of this young man would sooner or later force certain issues upon him. Let them now be raised. Mr. Perry-Hennington felt that he must now face them frankly and fearlessly, once and for all, in a severely practical way. His imperious stridings added to Edith’s alarm. “Somehow, father,” she ventured, “I don’t _quite_ think he meant it for blasphemy. After all he’s hardly that kind of person.” “Then what do you suppose the fellow did mean?” barked the vicar. “Well, you know that half crazy way of his. After all, he may not have meant anything in particular.” “Whatever his intention he had no right to use such words in such a connection. I am going to follow this matter up.” Edith made a second rather distressed attempt to clear John Smith; the look in her father’s face was quite alarming. But Mr. Perry-Hennington was not to be appeased. “Sooner or later there’s bound to be serious trouble with the fellow. And this is an opportunity to come to grips with him. I will go now and hear what he has to say for himself and then I must very carefully consider the steps to be taken in a highly disagreeable matter.”