Back The Inside of the Cup
Chapters (40)
  1. THE INSIDE OF THE CUP
  2. *
  3. Contents
  4. VOLUME 1
  5. Chapter I - The Waring Problems
  6. Chapter II - Mr. Langmaid's Mission
  7. Chapter III - The Primrose Path
  8. Chapter IV - Some Riddles of the Twentieth Century
  9. VOLUME 2
  10. Chapter V - The Rector Has More Food for Thought
  11. Chapter VI - "Watchman, What of the Night?"
  12. Chapter VII - The Kingdoms of the World
  13. Chapter VIII - The Line of Least Resistance
  14. VOLUME 3
  15. Chapter IX - The Divine Discontent
  16. Chapter X - The Messenger in the Church
  17. Chapter XI - The Lost Parishioner
  18. Chapter XII - The Woman of the Song
  19. VOLUME 4
  20. Chapter XIII - Winterbourne
  21. Chapter XIV - A Saturday Afternoon
  22. Chapter XV - The Crucible
  23. Chapter XVI - Amid the Encircling Gloom
  24. VOLUME 5
  25. Chapter XVII - Reconstruction
  26. Chapter XVIII - The Riddle of Causation
  27. Chapter XIX - Mr. Goodrich Becomes a Partisan
  28. VOLUME 6
  29. Chapter XX - The Arraignment
  30. Chapter XXI - Alison Goes to Church
  31. Chapter XXII - "Which Say to the Seers, See Not"
  32. VOLUME 7
  33. Chapter XXIII - The Choice
  34. Chapter XXIV - The Vestry Meets
  35. Chapter XXV - "Rise, Crowned with Light!"
  36. Chapter XXVI - The Current of Life
  37. VOLUME 8
  38. Chapter XXVII - Retribution
  39. Chapter XXVIII - Light
  40. Afterword

They were kind, they were delightful, they were interested in him—he occasionally thought—as a somewhat anachronistic phenomenon. They petted, respected him, and deferred to him. He represented to them an element in life they recognized, and which had its proper niche. What they failed to acknowledge was his point of view—and this he was wise enough not to press at dinner tables and in drawing-rooms—that religion should have the penetrability of ether; that it should be the absorbent of life. He did not have to commit the banality of reminding them of this conviction of his at their own tables; he had sufficient humour and penetration to credit them with knowing it. Nay, he went farther in his unsuspected analysis, and perceived that these beliefs made one of his chief attractions for them. It was pleasant to have authority in a black coat at one's board; to defer, if not to bend to it. The traditions of fashion demanded a clergyman in the milieu, and the more tenaciously he clung to his prerogatives, the better they liked it.

Although they were conscious of a certain pressure, which they gently resisted, they did not divine that the radiating and rugged young man cherished serious designs upon them. He did not expect to transform the world in a day, especially the modern world. He was biding his time, awaiting individual opportunities.

They talked to him of the parish work, congratulated him on the vigour with which he had attacked it, and often declared themselves jealous of it because it claimed too much of him. Dear Dr. Gilman, they said, had had neither the strength nor the perception of 'modern needs; and McCrae, the first assistant clergyman, while a good man, was a plodder and lacking in imagination. They talked sympathetically about the problems of the poor. And some of them—particularly Mrs. Wallis Plimpton were inclined to think Hodder's replies a trifle noncommittal. The trouble, although he did not tell them so, was that he himself had by no means solved the problem. And he felt a certain reluctance to discuss the riddle of poverty over champagne and porcelain.

Mrs. Plimpton and Mrs. Constable, Mrs. Ferguson, Mrs. Langmaid, Mrs. Larrabbee, Mrs. Atterbury, Mrs. Grey, and many other ladies and their daughters were honorary members of his guilds and societies, and found time in their busy lives to decorate the church, adorn the altar, care for the vestments, and visit the parish house. Some of them did more: Mrs. Larrabbee, for instance, when she was in town, often graced the girls' classes with her presence, which was a little disquieting to the daughters of immigrants: a little disquieting, too, to John Hodder. During the three years that had elapsed since Mr. Larrabbee's death, she had, with characteristic grace and ease, taken up philanthropy; become, in particular, the feminine patron saint of Galt House, non-sectarian, a rescue home for the erring of her sex.