father was a medical practitioner in an adjoining village. He was a plump, bearded, bookish, merry man, very proud of his atheism. It was he who had trained Jim in the faith and in his choice of liquor; he had sent Jim to this denominational college partly because it was cheap and partly because it tickled his humor to watch his son stir up the fretful complacency of the saints. He dropped in and found Elmer and Jim agitatedly awaiting the arrival of Eddie.
"Eddie said," wailed Elmer, "he said he was coming up to see me, and he'll haul out some more of these proofs that I'm going straight to hell. Gosh, Doctor, I don't know what's got into me. You better examine me. I must have anemics or something. Why, one time, if Eddie Fislinger had smiled at me, damn him, think of him daring to smile at me! — if he'd said he was coming to my room, I'd of told him, 'Like hell you will!' and I'd of kicked him in the shins."
Dr. Lefferts purred in his beard. His eyes were bright.
"I'll give your friend Fislinger a run for his money. And for the inconsequential sake of the non-existent Heaven, Jim, try not to look surprised when you find your respectable father being pious."
When Eddie arrived, he was introduced to a silkily cordial Dr. Lefferts, who shook his hand with that lengthiness and painfulness common to politicians, salesmen, and the godly. The doctor rejoiced:
"Brother Fislinger, my boy here and Elmer tell me that you've been trying to help them see the true Bible religion."
"I've been seeking to."
"It warms my soul to hear you say that, Brother Fislinger! You can't know what a grief it is to an old man tottering to the grave, to one whose only solace now is prayer and Bible-reading" — Dr. Lefferts had sat up till four a.m., three nights ago, playing poker and discussing biology with his cronies, the probate judge and the English stock-breeder — "what a grief it is to him that his only son, James Blaine Lefferts, is not a believer. But perhaps you can do more than I can, Brother Fislinger. They think I'm a fanatical old fogy. Now let me see — You're a real Bible believer?"
"Oh, yes!" Eddie looked triumphantly at Jim, who was leaning against the table, his hands in his pockets, as expressionless as wood. Elmer was curiously hunched up in the Morris chair, his hands over his mouth. The doctor said approvingly:
"That's splendid. You believe every word of it, I hope, from cover to cover?"
"Oh, yes. What I always say is, 'It's better to have the whole Bible than a Bible full of holes.'"
"Why, that's a real thought, Brother Fislinger. I must remember that, to tell any of these alleged higher critics, if I ever meet any! 'Bible whole — not Bible full of holes." Oh, that's a fine thought, and cleverly expressed. You made it up?"
"Well, not exactly."
"I see, I see. Well, that's splendid. Now of course you believe in the premillennial coming — I mean the real, authentic, genuwine, immediate, bodily, premillennial coming of Jesus Christ?"
"Oh, yes, sure."
"And the virgin birth?"
"Oh, you bet."
"That's splendid! Of course there are doctors who question whether the virgin birth is quite in accordance with their experience of obstetrics, but I tell those fellows, 'Look here! How do I know it's true? Because it says so in the Bible, and if it weren't true, do you suppose it would say so in the Bible?' That certainly shuts them up! They have precious little to say after that!"
By this time a really beautiful, bounteous fellowship was flowing between Eddie and the doctor, and they were looking with pity on the embarrassed faces of the two heretics left out in the cold. Dr. Lefferts tickled his beard and crooned:
"And of course, Brother Fislinger, you believe in infant damnation."
Eddie explained, "No; that's not a Baptist doctrine."
"You — you — " The good doctor choked, tugged at his collar, panted and wailed:
"It's not a Baptist doctrine? You don't believe in infant damnation?"
"W-why, no — "
"Then God help the Baptist church and the Baptist doctrine! God help us all, in these unregenerate days, that we should be contaminated by such infidelity!" Eddie sweat, while the doctor patted his plump hands and agonized: "Look you here, my brother! It's very simple. Are we not saved by being washed in the blood of the Lamb, and by that alone, by his blessed sacrifice alone?"
"W-why, yes, but — "
"Then either we are washed white, and saved, or else we are not washed, and we are not saved! That's the simple truth, and all weakenings and explanations and hemming and hawing about this clear and beautiful truth are simply of the devil, brother! And at what moment does a human being, in all his inevitable sinfulness, become subject to baptism and salvation? At two months? At nine years? At sixteen? At forty-seven? At ninety-nine? No! The moment he is born! And so if he be not baptized, then he must burn in hell forever. What does it say in the Good Book? 'For there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.' It may seem a little hard of God to fry beautiful little babies, but then think of the beautiful women whom he loves to roast there for the edification of the saints! Oh, brother, brother, now I understand why Jimmy here, and poor Elmer, are lost to the faith! It's because professed Christians like you give them this emasculated religion! Why, it's fellows like you who break down the dike of true belief, and open a channel for higher criticism and sabellianism and nymphomania and agnosticism and heresy and Catholicism and Seventh-day Adventism and all those horrible German inventions! Once you begin to doubt, the wicked work is done! Oh, Jim, Elmer, I told you to listen to our friend here, but now that I find him practically a free-thinker — "
The doctor staggered to a chair. Eddie stood gaping.
It was the first time in his life that any one had accused him of feebleness in the faith, of under-strictness. He was smirkingly accustomed to being denounced as over-strict. He had almost as much satisfaction out of denouncing liquor as other collegians had out of drinking it. He had, partly from his teachers and partly right out of his own brain, any number of good answers to classmates who protested that he was old-fashioned in belaboring domino-playing, open communion, listening to waltz music, wearing a gown in the pulpit, taking a walk on Sunday, reading novels, trans-substantiation, and these new devices of the devil called moving-pictures. He could frighten almost any Laodicean. But to be called shaky himself, to be called heretic and slacker — for that inconceivable attack he had no retort.
He looked at the agonized doctor, he looked at Jim and Elmer, who were obviously distressed at his fall from spiritual leadership, and he fled to secret prayer.
He took his grief presently to President Quarles, who explained everything perfectly.
"But this doctor quoted Scripture to prove his point!" bleated Eddie.
"Don't forget, Brother Fislinger, that 'the devil can quote Scripture to his purpose.'"
Eddie thought that was a very nice thought and very nicely expressed, and though he was not altogether sure that it was from the Bible, he put it away for future use in sermons. But before he was sufficiently restored to go after Elmer again, Christmas vacation had arrived.
*
When Eddie had gone, Elmer laughed far more heartily than
