The Sunday services having been no better attended than the preceding ones, he decided upon a bold move. On Monday afternoon he called at the doctor’s home. The doctor answered his knock at the door in person. The old fellow’s rough demeanor and uncouth appearance, his ancient cob pipe that had long been entitled to a superannuated relation, the musty, dingy room which the half-open door disclosed—all seemed in striking harmony with his attitude toward religion. The preacher introduced himself and explained that he was holding a revival over at the school house. The grizzled old sinner looked him over from head to foot, but said nothing, though the expression on his sin-hardened face seemed to say more plainly than words, “Well, you little rascal, you had better be at home with your mother.” “I understand,” persisted the preacher, ignoring the old gentleman’s contemptuous frown, “that you are a good singer and a prominent citizen, and I would like to consult you about the work and get you to help me.” “Help in a revival? Why, don’t you know that I don’t believe in the Bible or churches, or religion of any sort?” “Well, that needn’t stand in the way. The evenings are long and the young people want somewhere to go. You can do the singing and I’ll do the preaching.” [Illustration: The Boy Preacher Visiting the Infidel.] That put a different complexion on things. Here was a chance for some fun, and incidentally an outlet for his musical propensities, for he was well versed in music. The idea seemed to take hold. The grim features began to relax. The boys were called and told to “put up the preacher’s horse,” and the preacher was invited into the house. The invitation was heartily accepted. Newgent understood fishing; he had fished before. The hook was baited and he now perceived that he had got a nibble. The afternoon was spent to a good advantage. Conversation flowed in various channels, but fought shy of religion—no time for that yet. He waited for his fish to take the cork under before pulling in. The doctor had a large family of children, and their appearance bore testimony to the fact that they were strangers to church and Sunday school. The boys spread the startling news that “dad was goin’ to help the boy preacher in the big meetin’.” And such news traveled as it were with seven-leagued boots. That was all the advertisement the meeting needed. The infidel accompanied the preacher to the meeting, taking his place up front, and led the singing after the droll manner then in vogue. An earthquake or a man from the dead would not have created more excitement or comment. From that time the little school house did not accommodate the crowds.