"Send the boat across for us, will you? We'd like to come over."
"Go and fetch them over, you below," said Mr. Brych, "that all may hear the word of God. Brothers and sister, please sit down. It's not dirty here now that we do our heating with a Karburator. Brother Kuzenda will bring you some coffee, and then we can start. Welcome, young people. Come right up." With this Mr. Brych took his place by the opening down which ran the ladder to the interior of the dredge. "Halloa there, Kuzenda, ten on deck."
"Right!" cried a beard-muffled voice from the depths. "I'm just bringing it."
"Come, friends, sit down," said Brych, briskly indicating suitable seats. "Mr. Hudec, we have nothing but coffee here; I don't expect you'll mind."
"Why should I?" returned Mr. Hudec. "I just wanted to see your—to be present at your—séance."
"Our service," Brych mildly corrected him. "We are all brothers, here, you know. Let me tell you, Mr. Hudec, that I was a drunkard and Kuzenda was in politics, and the grace of God came upon us, and our brethren and sisters here," he said pointing round him, "come to us in the evenings to pray for the same gift of the spirit. The baker here had asthma, and Kuzenda cured him. Come now, baker, tell us yourself how it happened."
