The relations of Brother Gantry and Brother Shallard were not ardent, toward Christmastide, even in the intimacy of pumping a hand-car.
Frank complained while they were laboring along the track after church at Schoenheim:
"Look here, Gantry, something's got to be done. I'm not satisfied about you and Lulu. I've caught you looking at each other. And I suspect you've been talking to the dean about Dr. Zechlin. I'm afraid I've got to go to the dean myself. You're not fit to have a pastorate."
Elmer stopped pumping, glared, rubbed his mittened hands on his thighs, and spoke steadily:
"I've been waiting for this! I'm impulsive—sure; I make bad mistakes—every red-blooded man does. But what about you? I don't know how far you've gone with your hellish doubts, but I've been listening to the hedging way you answer questions in Sunday School, and I know you're beginning to wabble. Pretty soon you'll be an out-and-out liberal. God! Plotting to weaken the Christian religion, to steal away from weak groping souls their only hope of salvation! The worst murderer that ever lived isn't a criminal like you!"
"That isn't true! I'd die before I'd weaken the faith of any one who needed it!"
"Then you simply haven't got brains enough to see what you're doing, and there's no place for you in any Christian pulpit! It's me that ought to go to Pop Trosper complaining! Just today, when that girl came to you worrying about her pa's giving up family prayers, you let on like it didn't matter much. You may have started that poor young lady on the doubt-paved road that leads to everlasting Hell!"
And all the way to Mizpah Frank worried and explained.
And at Mizpah Elmer graciously permitted him to resign
