man, writhed inwardlly[sic], and nervously shifted in his cushioned pew, as Philip spoke in the plainest terms of the terrible example set the world by the use of property for purposes which were destructive to all true society, and a shame to civilization and Christianity. Philip controlled his voice and his manner admirably, but he drove the truth home and spared not. His voice at no time rose above a quiet conversational tone, but it was clear and distinct. The audience sat hushed in the spell of a genuine sensation, which deepened when, at the close of a tremendous sentence, which swept through the church like a red-hot flame, Mr. Winter suddenly arose in his pew, passed out into the aisle, and marched deliberately down and out of the door. Philip saw him and knew the reason, but marched straight on with his message, and no one, not even his anxious wife, who endured martyrdom for him that morning, could detect any disturbance in Philip from the mill-owner's contemptuous withdrawal.
When Philip closed with a prayer of tender appeal that the Spirit of Truth would make all hearts to behold the truth as one soul, the audience remained seated longer than usual, still under the influence of the subject and the morning's sensational service. All through the day Philip felt a certain strain on him, which did not subside even when the evening service was over. Some of the members, notably several of the mothers, thanked him, with tears in their eyes, for his morning message. Very few of the men talked with him. Mr. Winter did not come out to the evening service, although he was one of the very few men members who were invariably present. Philip noted his absence, but preached with his usual enthusiasm. He thought a larger number of strangers was present than he had seen the Sunday before. He was very tired when the day was over.
The next morning, as he was getting ready to go out for a visit to one of the mills, the bell rang. He was near the door and opened it. There stood Mr. Winter. "I would like to see you a few moments, Mr. Strong, if you can spare the time," said the mill-owner, without offering to take the hand Philip extended.
"Certainly. Will you come up to my study?" asked Philip, quietly.
The two men went upstairs, and Philip shut the door, as he motioned Mr. Winter to a seat, and then sat down opposite.
CHAPTER III
"I have come to see you about your sermon of yesterday morning," began Mr. Winter, abruptly. "I consider what you said was a direct insult to me personally."
"Suppose I should say it was not so intended," replied Philip, with a good-natured smile.
"Then I should say you lied!" replied Mr. Winter, sharply.
Philip sat very still. And the two men eyed each other in silence for a moment. The minister reached out his hand, and laid it on the other's arm, saying as he did so, "My brother, you certainly did not come into my house to accuse me unjustly of wronging you? I am willing to talk the matter over in a friendly spirit, but I will not listen to personal abuse."
There was something in the tone and manner of this declaration that subdued the mill-owner a little. He was an older man than Philip by twenty years, but a man of quick and ungoverned temper. He had come to see the minister while in a heat of passion, and the way Philip received him, the calmness and dignity of his attitude, thwarted his purpose. He wanted to find a man ready to quarrel. Instead he found a man ready to talk reason. Mr. Winter replied, after a pause, during which he controlled himself by a great effort:
"I consider that you purposely selected me as guilty of conduct unworthy a church-member and a Christian, and made me the target of your remarks yesterday. And I wish to say that such preaching will never do in Calvary Church while I am one of its members."
"Of course you refer to the matter of renting your property to saloon men and to halls for gambling and other evil uses," said Philip, bluntly. "Are you the only member of Calvary Church who lets his property for such purposes?"
"It is not a preacher's business to pry into the affairs of his church-members!" replied Mr. Winter, growing more excited again. "That is what I object to."
"In the first place, Mr. Winter," said Philip, steadily, "let us settle the right and wrongs of the whole business. Is it right for a Christian man, a church-member, to rent his property for saloons and vicious resorts, where human life is ruined?"
"That is not the question."
"What is?" Philip asked, with his eyes wide open to the other's face.
Mr. Winter answered sullenly: "The question is whether our business affairs, those of other men with me, are to be dragged into the Sunday church-services, and made the occasion of personal attacks upon us. I for one will not sit and listen to any such preaching."
"But aside from the matter of private business, Mr. Winter, let us settle whether what you and others are doing is right. Will you let the other matter rest a moment, and tell me what is the duty of a Christian in the use of his property?"
"It is my property, and if I or my agent choose to rent it to another man in a legal, business way, that is my affair. I do not recognize that you have anything to do with it."
"Not if I am convinced that you are doing what is harmful to the community and to the church?"
"You have no business to meddle in our private affairs!" replied Mr. Winter, angrily. "And if you intend to pursue that method of preaching, I shall withdraw my support, and most of the influential, paying members will follow my example."
It was a cowardly threat on the part of the excited mill-owner, and it roused Philip more than if he had been physically slapped in the face. If there was anything in all the world that stirred Philip to his oceanic depths of feeling, it was an intimation that he was in the ministry for pay or the salary, and so must be afraid of losing the support of those members who were able to pay largely. He clenched his fingers around the arms of his study-chair until his nails bent on the hard wood. His scorn and indignation burned in his face, although his voice was calm enough.
"Mr. Winter, this whole affair is a matter of the most profound principle with me. As long as I live I shall believe that a Christian man has no more right to rent his property for a saloon than he has to run a saloon himself. And as long as I live I shall also believe that it is a minister's duty to preach to his church plainly upon matters which bear upon the right and wrong of life, no matter what is involved in those matters. Are money and houses and lands of such a character that the use of them has no bearing on moral questions, and they are therefore to be left out of the preaching material of the pulpit? It is my conviction that many men of property in this age are coming to regard their business as separate and removed from God and all relation to Him. The business men of to-day do not regard their property as God's. They always speak of it as theirs. And they resent any 'interference,' as you call it, on the part of the pulpit. Nevertheless, I say it plainly, I regard the renting of these houses by you, and other business men in the church, to the whisky men and the corrupters of youth as wholly wrong, and so wrong that the Christian minister who would keep silent when he knew the facts would be guilty of unspeakable cowardice and disloyalty to his Lord. As to your threat of withdrawal of support, sir, do you suppose I would be in the ministry if I were afraid of the rich men in my congregation? It shows that you are not yet acquainted with me. It would not hurt you to know me better!"
All the time Philip was talking, his manner was that of dignified indignation. His anger was never coarse or vulgar. But when he was roused as he was now he spoke with a total disregard for all coming consequences. For the time being he felt as perhaps one of the old Hebrew prophets used to feel when the flame of inspired wrath burned up in the soul of the messenger of God.
The man who sat opposite was compelled to keep silent until Philip had said what he had to say. It was impossible for him to interrupt. Also it was out of the question that a man like Mr. Winter should understand a nature like that of Philip Strong. The mill-owner sprang to his feet as soon as Philip finished. He was white to the lips with passion, and so excited that his hands trembled and his voice shook as he replied to Philip:
"You shall answer for these insults, sir. I withdraw my church pledge, and you will see whether the business men in the church will sustain such preaching." And Mr. Winter flung himself out of the study and downstairs, forgetting to take his hat, which he had carried up with him. Philip caught it up and went downstairs with it, reaching him just as he was going out of