right for a regular church, especially with a high-class rich congregation, but in a soul-saving campaign—"
"My dear Mr. Gantry, Miss Falconer and I have decided that even in the most aggressive campaign there is no need of vulgarizing our followers."
"Well, that isn't what I'd give 'em!"
"And what, pray, would you give them?"
"The good old-fashioned hell, that's what!" Elmer peeped at Sharon, and felt that she was smiling with encouragement. "Yes-sir, like the hymn says, the hell of our fathers is good enough for me."
"Quite so! I'm afraid it isn't good enough for me, and I don't know that Jesus fancied it particularly!"
"Well, you can be dead sure of one thing: When he stayed with Mary and Martha and Lazarus, he didn't loaf around drinking tea with 'em!"
"Why not, my dear man! Don't you know that tea was first imported by caravan train from Ceylon to Syria in 627 b. c.?
"No-o, didn't know just when—"
"Why, of course. You've merely forgotten it—you must have read in your university days of the great epicurean expedition of Phthaltazar—when he took the eleven hundred camels? Psaltazar? You remember!"
"Oh, yes, I remember his expedition, but I didn't know he brought in tea."
"Why, naturally! Rather! Uh, Miss Falconer, the impetuous Mr. Shoop wants to sing 'Just As I Am' for his solo tonight. Is there any way of preventing it? Adelbert is a good saved soul, but just as he is, he is too fat. Won't you speak to him?"
"Oh, I don't know. Let him sing it. He's brought in lots of souls on that," yawned Sharon.
"Mangy little souls."
"Oh, stop being so supercilious! When you get to heaven, Cecil, you'll complain of the way the seraphims—oh, do shut up; I know it's seraphim, my tongue just slipped—you'll complain of the kind of corsets they wear."
"I'm not at all sure but that you really do picture that sort of heaven, with corseted angels and yourself with a golden mansion on the celestial Park Lane!"
