"I am of that mind," the younger man answered, nodding his head gravely. "Of course you are!" Sir Anthony rejoined, as he rested one hand on the sundial. "For ten generations our forefathers have worshiped in that church after the old fashion--and shall it be changed in my day? Heaven forbid! The old fashion did for my fathers; it shall do for me. Why, I would as soon expect that the river yonder should flow backward as that the church which has stood for centuries, and more years to the back of them than I can count, should be swept away by these Hot Gospelers! I will have none of them! I will have no new-fangled ways at Coton End!" "Well, I think you are right!" the younger brother said. By what means he had brought the knight to this mind without committing himself more fully, I cannot tell. Yet so it was. Ferdinand showed himself always the cautious doubter. Father Carey even must have done him that justice. But--and this was strange--the more doubtful he showed himself, the more stubborn grew his brother. There are men so shrewd as to pass off stones for bread; and men so simple-minded as to take something less than the word for the deed. "Why should it come in our time?" cried Sir Anthony fractiously. "Why indeed?" quoth the subtle one. "I say, why should it come now? I have heard and read of the sect called Lollards who gave trouble a while ago. But they passed, and the church stood. So will these Gospelers pass, and the church will stand." "That is our experience certainly," said Ferdinand. "I hate change!" the old man continued, his eyes on the old church, the old timbered house--for only the gateway tower at Coton is of stone--the old yew trees in the churchyard. "I do not believe in it, and, what is more, I will not have it. As my fathers have worshiped, so will I, though it cost me every rood of land! A fig for the Order in Council!" "If you really will not change with the younger generations----" "I will not!" replied the old knight sharply. "There is an end of it!" To-day the Reformed Church in England has seen many an anniversary, and grown stronger with each year; and we can afford to laugh at Sir Anthony's arguments. We know better than he did, for the proof of the pudding is in the eating. But in him and his fellows, who had only the knowledge of their own day, such arguments were natural enough. All time, all experience, all history and custom and habit, as known to them, were on their side. Only it was once again to be the battle of David and the Giant of Gath. Sir Anthony had said, "There is an end of it!" But his companion, as he presently strolled up to the house with a smile on his saturnine face, well knew that this was only the beginning of it. This was Friday.