“My dear, I tell you I was completely knocked off my pins. He was so deadly in earnest. His keen blue eyes were blazing into mine with the light of battle in them. He was full of vital energy and he looked ready to leap at me. Great Scot! I couldn’t help thinking what a halfback he’d make, how those long, sinewy hands would grip and hold. And when he said to me, ‘Are those things true or not?’ I had the feeling that if I said they were not true he would get me by the throat. You know it is rather awkward to answer a question like that offhand, to give, in fact, your whole theory of Biblical criticism in a sentence. I confess I stood gaping at him. He was so fiercely intense. He turned over to the New Testament. ‘How about this?’ he said, putting his finger down on the second chapter of Matthew. ‘How about Jesus? How much of that is true, how much is false?’ And when he came to that the boy’s lips trembled. My dear, my heart went out to him when he said, ‘What about Jesus?’” “What did you say?” inquired his wife, her eyes shining at him. “He must be a dear boy.” “I frankly tell you I funked the whole question. I said, ‘Come and see me and we will talk it over.’ ‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t think I will.’” “Good for him!” cried his wife. “And it serves you right, Jack. Then what happened?” “Well, I got him to promise to come back tonight. I said to him, ‘You are not treating me fairly, you are not playing the game. Give me a chance to put my whole case to you.’ That seemed to stagger him a bit. He said, ‘Yes, that is fair. I will come tonight.’ It was the music, however, that got him.” “And where is he now?” “I left him moving up toward the organ, in a kind of trance. He had never heard an organ in his life. I suppose he is there still. But I must see that boy, I must get him.” “I should think so,” said his wife. “You owe him something.” “I suppose I do,” said Jack, his face wearing a troubled look. “Say! This preaching business is a terrible job.” “Never mind, my dear. I am sure you preach perfectly beautifully, and there is no better preacher in the city. But I wish you would not preach so much with the idea of ‘making ’em sit up,’ as you say. I tell you what, Jack,” she added with an inspiration, “take him to the Mission. That is what he wants.” “Darling, you are a wonder,” cried her husband. “I wish I could show you how wonderful I think you are.” He rose from his place and walked round toward her end of the table, with the idea of demonstrating the marvellous charm of his wife. “Go and sit down, you silly boy. Your dinner is cold. But you must get that boy and bring him here. I wonder where he is having his dinner? Down in some of those horrid hotels, I suppose.”