rector of Christ Church could not answer her. She used a kind of concrete logic that he was not prepared at that moment to refute. The best he could do was to try to postpone the issue.
"I shall not argue this out with you to-day," he said. "I feel that you are entirely wrong in your estimate of religion and the Church, and some day, when the severity of your affliction has passed, I want to come again and talk with you. In the meantime will you not reconsider your refusal to recognize the Church in the matter of the burial of your husband?"
"Why should I reconsider it? The Church has never recognized me. It never recognized John Bradley. Doling out charity is not recognition; inviting the poor to come and sit in the rear pews of your church is not recognition. Oh, I tell you, Mr. Farrar, I don't want charity from your Church people, nor sympathy, nor a chance to crowd in to your services; what I want is plain human justice, with a right to live comfortably and be decent and happy. And when they begin to give that to me, I'll begin to have some regard for their Church."
It was entirely plain to the rector that he could accomplish no religious purpose with this woman at this time, and he rose to go.
"I am sorry," he said, "for I really wanted to help you. I hope you believe that at any rate."
She rose in her turn. "I believe it," she said.
"And that my Master in heaven has compassion on you."
"I'll believe that when He repudiates the conduct toward me of most of His followers here."
It was her parting shot. He did not reply to it, but he held out his hand to bid her good-bye. She took it with no reluctance.
"Please understand," she said, "that my grievance is not against you personally. I believe you are good and conscientious."
