He was not there on the particular Sunday when this story opens, otherwise the conversation about to be recorded would not have taken place. For St. John's Church was not often mentioned in Mr. Bentley's presence. “Well, grandmother,” said Phil Goodrich, who was the favourite son-in-law, “how was the new rector to-day?” “Mr. Hodder is a remarkable young man, Phil,” Mrs. Waring declared, “and delivered such a good sermon. I couldn't help wishing that you and Rex and Evelyn and George had been in church.” “Phil couldn't go,” explained the unmarried and sunburned Evelyn, “he had a match on of eighteen holes with me.” Mrs. Waring sighed. “I can't think what's got into the younger people these days that they seem so indifferent to religion. Your father's a vestryman, Phil, and I believe it has always been his hope that you would succeed him. I'm afraid Rex won't succeed his father,” she added, with a touch of regret and a glance of pride at her husband. “You never go to church, Rex. Phil does.” “I got enough church at boarding-school to last me a lifetime, mother,” her son replied. He was slightly older than Evelyn, and just out of college. “Besides, any heathen can get on the vestry--it's a financial board, and they're due to put Phil on some day. They're always putting him on boards.” His mother looked a little distressed. “Rex, I wish you wouldn't talk that way about the Church--” “I'm sorry, mother,” he said, with quick penitence. “Mr. Langmaid's a vestryman, you know, and they've only got him there because he's the best corporation lawyer in the city. He isn't exactly what you'd call orthodox. He never goes.” “We are indebted to Mr. Langmaid for Mr. Hodder.” This was one of Mr. Waring's rare remarks. Eleanor Goodrich caught her husband's eye, and smiled. “I wonder why it is,” she said, “that we are so luke-warm about church in these days? I don't mean you, Lucy, or Laureston,” she added to her sister, Mrs. Grey. “You're both exemplary.” Lucy bowed ironically. “But most people of our ages with whom we associate. Martha Preston, for instance. We were all brought up like the children of Jonathan Edwards. Do you remember that awful round-and-round feeling on Sunday afternoons, Sally, and only the wabbly Noah's Ark elephant to play with, right in this house? instead of THAT!” There was a bump in the hall without, and shrieks of laughter. “I'll never forget the first time it occurred to me--when I was reading Darwin--that if the ark were as large as Barnum's Circus and the Natural History Museum put together, it couldn't have held a thousandth of the species on earth. It was a blow.” “I don't know what we're coming to,” exclaimed Mrs. Waring gently. “I didn't mean to be flippant, mother,” said Eleanor penitently, “but I do believe the Christian religion has got to be presented in a different way, and a more vital way, to appeal to a new generation. I am merely looking facts in the face.”