"Granted. But the Christianity of Christ is one thing and modern Christianity another thing. The ancient Church, you must remember, absorbed Paganism. Van Meter's religion is, I grant you, a pretty stiff mixture of Paganism and Christianity, but historically he is in line with the Church and you are out of line with it. I'd do one of two things--use Van Meter for all he is worth, or get out of his church and let him alone. It's his. He and his kind built it. You are an interloper." "Perhaps so," Gordon mused. "You know my opinion of your dream of social salvation. I say let the fit survive and the weak go to the wall. If you could save all the floating trash that so moves your pity, you would only lower the standard of humanity. Hell is the furnace made to consume such worthless rubbish. You are even apologising for hell because you can't stand the odour of burning flesh. I like the old God of Israel better than the ghost you moderns have set up. Honestly, Frank, you have never treated Van Meter decently. He's a small man, but he is in dead earnest, and he is historically a Christian. I don't know what the devil you are, and I don't believe you know yourself. Go to Van Meter, have a plain business talk with him, and see if you can't come to an understanding." "That's the only sensible thing you've said to me." "And the only immoral thing; for if you and Van Meter ever agree you will both do some tall lying." "I think I'll take your advice and see him, anyhow." CHAPTER IV THE SHORTHORN DEACON Gordon and Overman came into town on the four o'clock express. They sat down in opposite seats near the centre of the car. Neither of them noticed Van Meter, who also lived at Babylon in the summer, board the train as it pulled out of the station. He was a pompous little man, short and red-faced, with gray side whiskers and bald head. His eyes were sharp and beady and shined like shoe-buttons. Piety and thrift were written all over him. As a deacon he passed the bread and wine at the Lord's Table on Sunday, with his black eyes half closed, dreaming of cornering the bread market of the world on Monday. For him New York was the centre of the universe, and the Stock Exchange was the centre of New York. The rest of this earth was provincial, tributary soil. He had gone abroad, but rarely ventured beyond Philadelphia or Coney Island on this side. He was the presiding officer of the Stock Exchange and the President of the Metropolitan Bible and Tract Society. He took himself very seriously. As they got out of the car at Long Island City, Gordon said to him: "Deacon, I wish to have a talk with you tomorrow. Shall I call at your home or office?" "Come down to the office at two o'clock; I'll be out at night," Van Meter answered briskly.