"Three hundred dollars." Such an awful moment! The Elder's head dropped as he said this. But the Bishop's eyes were still upon the spot in the carpet.

"And so this young man comes hither and accuses and sues you, accusing you of breaking up he and his wife. He published all that you have told me and if he should secure a judgment it is known that he can remand you to jail for six months."

He paused again, regarded the spot in the carpet before him very keenly and then arose. The Elder arose also, but he was unable to find his voice. In the meantime the Bishop was moving toward the door, his hand was upon the knob, and when the door was open, he turned, and looking at the one behind him, said:

"Well, see you at the conference, Newt," and was gone.

The other stood regarding the closed door. His brain was in a whirl and he could not quite understand what had happened. But _something_ in that hour had transpired, and while he could not seem to realize what it was just then, he knew he would learn it in due time.

CHAPTER XII

THE BISHOP ACTS

The conference that followed was one of grave apprehensions for the Reverend McCarthy. Before, he had always looked forward to this occasion with considerable anxiety. He had usually prepared himself for the battle that was a rule on such occasions. For thirty-five years he had not missed a conference; he had never come away in defeat. True, he had not risen very high, but he had, at least, always been able to hold his own.

But, for the first time in his long experience, he went to meet this conference with a feeling in his heart that he would come away defeated.

That he was not to be reappointed Presiding Elder, was a foregone conclusion, but he entertained doubts about getting the appointment he had hoped to secure. Ever since the Bishop had paid him the visit, he had been uncomfortable. When the prelate bade him good-by that day, he had never been able to get out of his mind the idea that the other had convicted him in his own heart, and had purposely avoided his company.

It worried him, and he had been losing flesh for two years, therefore he did not present now the same robust, striking figure as when he had met the conference heretofore year after year.

And then, moreover, he had been hounded almost to insanity by gossips.

From over all his circuit it was the talk, they brought it to conference and discussed it freely and did not take the trouble to get out of his hearing to do so. Nowhere was there, as he well knew, a body that would have delighted more in his downfall than those brother preachers who met the conference that year. Always had they been ready to oppose him, but always before the Bishop had been with him. He had been able by subtle methods to place himself in the Bishop's favor, but this time that august individual artfully kept from meeting him directly. Besides, he had not the conscience to seek him, and he had not been able to meet the Bishop in the free atmosphere as before.

The charge that he had picked out was very good, and it was convenient for his needs for many reasons. Of course there were scores of others after the same charge, but with his old influence he need not have worried. However, he had not and could not see the Bishop privately long enough to secure from him a promise. And so he met the conference for the first time, unsettled as to where he was to preach the ensuing year.

Never had a conference seemed so long as that session. The week wore slowly away, and he was forced to be aware of the fact that on all sides they were discussing him, and the fact that he had been sued, and was likely to be remanded to jail as a result, since no one credited him with so large a sum as ten thousand dollars. He could see the unconcealed delight, and the malice that had always been, but which before he had been able to ignore. Affairs reached such a point until it was almost a conclusion that it mattered little as to where he was sent, for he would be unable to fill the pulpit because of the fact that he would have to go to jail shortly. It nettled him; it broke down his habitual composure, and it was a relief to him when the conference came to a close.

And not until the secretary arose to call the various charges and who had been sent thither, did he know where he was to go. So it was with a sinking of the heart when his name was reached:

"Reverend McCarthy to Mitchfield!"

"_Reverend McCarthy to Mitchfield!_" was the echo all through the audience. Impossible! _Reverend McCarthy_, one of the oldest, and regarded as one of the strongest, one of the ablest ministers to such a forsaken charge. Indeed they could hardly have sent him to a poorer charge, to a less dignified place. It seemed incredible, and the rest of the calls were almost drowned out in the consternation that followed.

Well, it was done. He had been all but silenced, and lowered as much as the Bishop dared to lower him. That was settled, and he returned to Chicago without telegraphing the fact to his family.

With resignation he made the necessary preparations for the trip, and taking Orlean with him, went to the small town. They rented a house, for the place didn't afford a parsonage, and began the long dreary year that was to follow. It was his good fortune, however, when the school board met and decided to separate the Negro children from the whites in the public schools, that they employed his daughter to teach the colored pupils for the year. In this way they were able to get along in very good comfort in the months that followed. So the autumn passed, and also the winter. Spring came and went, and summer had set in when his attorney wrote him that the case had been called, to come into Chicago, and prepare to stand trial in the case of Jean Baptiste, plaintiff, versus Newton Justine McCarthy, defendant.

CHAPTER XIII

WHERE THE WEAK MUST BE STRONG

The trial was called for early June, and Baptiste reached the city a week or ten days before the time set. He had become very friendly with the Negro lawyer who was conducting his case. He also secured a Gregory lawyer, the one who had conducted the contest case. When he arrived in the city, the lawyer advised that, inasmuch as they had a spare bedroom at his home, and that it would be imperative for them to be close to discuss various phases of the prosecution, he could have the room if he liked. So he accepted it.

It so happened that the lawyer's home was located in the same block on Vernon Avenue as was the McCarthys, and on the same side of the street.

Moreover, it had been built at the same time as had that of the McCarthys, and was very much like in appearance the one in which they were living.

One afternoon a few days before the trial, while lingering at the bar of the Keystone Hotel, Baptiste was approached by Glavis, who invited him to a table nearby, where they were very much alone. He ordered the drinks, and when they were served he began:

"Now, Baptiste, it seems we ought to be able to get together on this case without going into court."

"Yes?" replied Baptiste, regarding the other noncommittally.

"Yes, I think we could, and should. I think you and Orlean ought to be able to console your differences without such an extreme."

"You _think_ so?"

"Why, I do. Orlean has always--ah--rather loved you, Baptiste, and I think you two could make up."

"But this is not between Orlean and me, Glavis. You seem to misunderstand. It is between N. Justine McCarthy and me."

"Of course, but it is over Orlean. You have sued father for this sum, a sum you know he cannot pay in the event you should secure judgment. So there would be nothing left for you but to remand him to jail, which seems to be your desire."

"Possibly so." The other was still noncommittal.

"Then why not you and I get together on this proposition before the trial is called?"

"I don't see as I can oblige you, Glavis. There comes a time when compromise is impossible, only vindication can suffice. And it's vindication that I want now and, regret to advise, am determined to have."

"That seems rather severe, Baptiste."

"Why so?"

"Well, you see, I understand that the old man kinda--er, gave you the worst of it, but you ought to forget some things. Look at it from a broad viewpoint. See how expensive it is going to be, and all that."

"I considered all that before I went into it, Glavis," replied Baptiste calmly.

"Well, now, Baptiste, I want to stop this thing before it goes to court.

If you had of kinda flattered the old man a little in the beginning as I did, all would have been well."

"Why should I have done so when I didn't feel to?"

"Oh, Baptiste, you are _so_ severe!"

"When a man has suffered as I have, it is time to be severe, my friend.

For your own benefit, I will say that I do not trust your father-in-law.

I do not love him and never have. If it wasn't because I wish to observe and subserve to the law of the land, I would have killed him long ago.

_Even when I think of it now_, my bitterness is so great at times that I must repel the inclination to strike him down for the coward he is. So if that's all, we will call the meeting to an end," so saying he arose, strode toward the bar and ordered drinks for both. He drank his with a gulp when served, and turned and left the saloon.

Glavis proceeded to his lawyer, and advised him of his inability to dissuade the plaintiff.

"Couldn't dissuade him, eh?"