As Uncle Isham Jones said, "De man never fetched an amen"; and the people resented his ineffectiveness. Even Robert's father sat with his head bowed in his hands, broken and ashamed of his son; and when, without a flourish, the preacher sat down, after talking twenty-two minutes by the clock, a shiver of surprise ran over the whole church. His father had never pounded the desk for less than an hour. Disappointment, even disgust, was written on every face. The singing was spiritless, and as the people filed out of church and gathered in knots about the door, the old-time head-shaking was resumed, and the comments were many and unfavourable. "Dat's what his schoolin' done fo' him," said one. "It wasn't nothin' mo'n a lecter," was another's criticism. "Put him 'side o' his father," said one of the Rev. Abram Dixon's loyal members, "and bless my soul, de ol' man would preach all roun' him, and he ain't been to no college, neither!" Robert and his father walked home in silence together. When they were in the house, the old man turned to his son and said: "Is dat de way dey teach you to preach at college?" "I followed my instructions as nearly as possible, father." "Well, Lawd he'p dey preachin', den! Why, befo' I'd ha' been in dat pulpit five minutes, I'd ha' had dem people moanin' an' hollerin' all over de church." "And would they have lived any more cleanly the next day?" The old man looked at his son sadly, and shook his head as at one of the unenlightened. Robert did not preach in his father's church again before his visit came to a close; but before going he said, "I want you to promise me you'll come up and visit me, father. I want you to see the work I am trying to do. I don't say that my way is best or that my work is a higher work, but I do want you to see that I am in earnest." "I ain't doubtin' you mean well, Robbie," said his father, "but I guess I'd be a good deal out o' place up thaih." "No, you wouldn't, father. You come up and see me. Promise me." And the old man promised. It was not, however, until nearly a year later that the Rev. Abram Dixon went up to visit his son's church. Robert met him at the station, and took him to the little parsonage which the young clergyman's people had provided for him. It was a very simple place, and an aged woman served the young man as cook and caretaker; but Abram Dixon was astonished at what seemed to him both vainglory and extravagance. "Ain't you livin' kin' o' high fo' yo' raisin', Robbie?" he asked. The young man laughed. "If you'd see how some of the people live here, father, you'd hardly say so." Abram looked at the chintz-covered sofa and shook his head at its luxury, but Robert, on coming back after a brief absence, found his father sound asleep upon the comfortable lounge.