“Well, well, we must expect a slating. They get it from the humorous angle at first. We’ll have you writing a very comic account. I never could see anything very funny in the spirit of one’s dead wife, but it’s a matter of taste and of knowledge also. If they don’t know, how can they take it seriously? I don’t blame them. We were mostly like that ourselves once. I was one of Bradlaugh’s men, and sat under Joseph MacCabe until my old Dad came and pulled me out.” “Good for him!” said the Liverpool medium. “It was the first time I found I had powers of my own. I saw him like I see you now.” “Was he one of us in the body?” “Knew no more than I did. But they come on amazin’ at the other side if the right folk get hold of them.” “Time’s up!” said Mr. Peeble, snapping his watch. “You are on the right of the chair, Mrs. Debbs. Will you go first? Then you, Mr. Chairman. Then you two and myself. Get on the left, Mr. Hardy Williams, and lead the singin’. They want warmin’ up and you can do it. Now then, if _you_ please!” The platform was already crowded, but the newcomers threaded their way to the front amid a decorous murmur of welcome. Mr. Peeble shoved and exhorted and two end seats emerged upon which Enid and Malone perched themselves. The arrangement suited them well, for they could use their notebooks freely behind the shelter of the folk in front. “What is your reaction?” whispered Enid. “Not impressed as yet.” “No, nor I,” said Enid, “but it’s very interesting all the same.” People who are in earnest are always interesting, whether you agree with them or not, and it was impossible to doubt that the people were extremely earnest. The hall was crammed, and as one looked down one saw line after line of upturned faces, curiously alike in type, women predominating, but men running them close. That type was not distinguished nor intellectual, but it was undeniably healthy, honest and sane. Small trades-folk, male and female shop-walkers, better class artisans, lower middle-class women worn with household cares, occasional young folk in search of a sensation--these were the impressions which the audience conveyed to the trained observation of Malone. The fat president rose and raised his hand. “My friends,” said he, “we have had once more to exclude a great number of people who’d desired to be with us to-night. It’s all a question of the building-fund, and Mr. Williams on my left will be glad to hear from any of you. I was in a hotel last week and they had a notice hung up in the reception bureau. ‘No cheques accepted.’ That’s not the way Brother Williams talks. You just try him.” The audience laughed. The atmosphere was clearly that of the lecture-hall rather than of the Church.