I started up, involuntarily. “Oh, shame!
Shame!” I cried, and would have rushed out into
the aisle. But I had to pass my uncle, and he
had no intention of letting me make myself a spectacle.
He threw his arms about me, and pinned me against
the pew in front; and as he is one of the ten ranking
golfers at the Western City Country Club, his embrace
carried authority. I struggled, but there I stayed,
shouting, “For shame! For shame!”
and my uncle exclaiming, in a stern whisper, “Shut
up! Sit down, you fool!” and my Aunt Caroline
holding onto my coat-tails, crying, and my aunt Jennie
threatening to faint.
The melee came quickly to an end, for the men of the
congregation seized the half dozen disturbers and
flung them outside, and mounted guard to make sure
they did not return. I sank back into my seat,
my worthy uncle holding my arm tightly with both hands,
lest I should try to make my escape over the laps
of Aunt Caroline and Aunt Jennie.
All this time the Reverend Lettuce-Spray had been
standing in the pulpit, making no sound. Now,
as the congregation settled back into order, he said,
with the splendid, conscious self-possession of one
who can remain “equal to the occasion”:
“We will resume the service.” And
he opened his portfolio, and spread out his manuscript
before him, and announced:
“Our text for the morning is the fifth chapter
of the gospel according to St. Matthew, the thirty-ninth
and fortieth verses: ’But I say unto you,
that ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite
thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.
And if any man shall sue thee at law, and take away
thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.”
I sat through the sermon, and the offertory, and the
recessional. After that my uncle tried to detain
me, to warn and scold me; but he no longer used physical
force, and nothing but that would have held me.
At the door I asked one of the ushers what had become
of the prophet, thinking he might be in jail.
But the answer was that the gang had gone off, carrying
their wounded; so I ran round the corner to where
my car was parked, and within ten minutes I was on
Western City Street, where Carpenter had announced
that he would speak.
There had been nothing said about the proposed meeting
in the papers, and no one knew about it save those
who had been present at Grant Hall. But it looked
as if they had told everyone they knew, and everyone
they had told had come. The wide street was packed
solid for a block, and in the midst of this throng
stood Carpenter, upon a wagon, making a speech.
There was no chance to get near, so I bethought me
of an alley which ran parallel to the street.
There was an obscure hotel on the street, and I entered
it through the rear entrance, and had no trouble in
persuading the clerk to let me join some of the guests
of the hotel who were watching the scene from the
second story windows.
